Charade

identity
take one or two
by mouth
swallow whole
wash down with Moons
the coming twelve
might be the last stage
of the disease:
last stage of you

relax
insanity will come to an end
where it originated
time and space that made you belong
ran out too far
too soon

it is all familiar
surroundings sorted out by colors and shapes
by failure to learn
face swollen from wearing masks
from jabs of fate
frantic dance and beating drum
to seed the clouds
didn’t help
the deities of the totem awakened nothing

thought of yourself as one
took so many names to survive
count lost
but not the soul
not the soul
pieces of different worlds made the charade supposedly worth it
peace on Earth
is logical fallacy