Concealer

Time’s wearing thin;
These silly miscommunication games.
Half-truths coupled with full smiles,
Ecstasy moans twined in guilty denial—
What happens when the script runs out?

These facades are wearing in use,
Obscuring what’s left of truth.
If reality ever interceded on our behalf,
We wouldn’t know what to do.

So lets keep writhing in pleasure,
Empty our minds of indulgent decadence.
We’ll just play hide-and-seek with truth,
Bait our breaths and hope it won’t expose our ruse.