There are many sensuous delights in this mansion
People take photos in the dark
For magazines that don’t get published
They tell tales to walls and chandeliers
Laughing at their own jokes
All are blind to each other
No one sees the other
I can not take a deep breath
Smaller and smaller I grow
‘To the back door’ he whispers,
We dance our way over, incognito,
and slide the door shut behind us
The night air rushes into my lungs
Noisy streets and colored lights surround us
Many journeys are taking place on the busy highway
‘This is not my fathers house’ I say
‘It’s a house of smoke and mirrors’
A facade, a fallacy, an illusion
The seats on this balcony are empty, never used, never to be sat on
For once you leave the darkness
You only ever follow the sun
It dawns brilliantly over the horizon