Epicurean Masquerade

For years he masqueraded the streets Eclipsed by an array of dancing shadows He weeped a harrowing sea of tears Never once had he sought company Bared by the hands of mere strangers Nor had he ever offered himself To be conquered by such fools In restaurants across distances He'd gaze as loads of people Drunk of the finest wines And ate of epicurean dishes Briefly they traded glances The profound malice searing Ever so fervently in their eyes Leaving a bad taste upon his breath Soon after the heightening hatred Had so suddenly evaporated Back to square one he was Anxiously he reached for his cigarettes A taste of smoke he passionately craved Tragically he had traded his lungs In exchange for temporary relief Cancer was his psychologist © 2011 (All rights reserved)