This poem details a sadness I would experience in my drinking days when the frailties of my existence were exposed and I was left all alone again. That’s the problem with presenting a false face to people; they leave once they see the real you. That’s part of the vicious spiral, of course, as the loneliness leads to a need of yet another reinvention. Sadly, there are always people out there who will buy the fool’s snake oils.

I wrote this sometime in the early 2000s, and I’m so pleased I don’t have to live like that anymore. One thing I can say about who I am these days is that I don’t wear masks very often. I may not be the wildly impressive person I used to try to be, but I’m the man you meet when you meet me, and I’m never lonely.

How could I be? You’re here. Hopefully this gives you a better idea of how much that means to me.

Feel free to share it.

Thanks for Stopping By

There’s always a new audience

when the old audience leaves,

and all the old audiences have gone.

There’s always one more fool

who believes the lie

and embraces the offered hand.