I am watching YOU .
My eye itches .
A heavy weight snoring on my lid .
Clumps of dirt willfully painted on my face .
My *Mascarad* eye is looking. Mascarad- The act of wearing Mascara (eyelash make up), while scared or not wearing Mascara and being scared . Yet , I am still capable of seeing. Of seeing you. Do you see me too ?
Or do you see the mud on my face? For , I just looked in the mirror and did not recognize myself. For, I look snottier. My nose more stuck up .
My skin complexion disarrayed. The cosmetic mud splattered on my face . Too orange ? Too brown ? Too white ?
Not sure . But, all I have to do is blend, blend, blend.
My hand monotonously bangs on my face. Blend. Blend . Blend. Blatantly bending a substance. A substance I am ignorant to .
All these efforts described , yet more often than NOT my face results in a myriad of colors. A failed attempt at a Picasso. All because I cannot blend .
In truth , I am not trivializing makeup . At weddings, when professionals decorate my face- I have to say , I check myself out at least one or twice.
But , this plastered beauty is not me . For, I love to rub my eyes . I enjoy blinking profusely . I enjoy tanning . I enjoy my face that flushes red.
No wait. Who is that lazy slob? Discolored by nature. Red blotches on her face from running, walking, or laughing too much. I don't recognize HER either.
Snapforward: Nonetheless , makeup I do. When I want to leave my body and be someone else . Someone powerful . Classy . Fashionable . Presentable .
For my "pick-me- up days" when I want to be free of my face . Free of my reflection . Free of my emotions . It is then , that dolled up Christy appears . Yet, I do not recognize her either.
I wonder if they will ever meet ? Then, maybe she will finally stop staring at me. Maybe then she can finally "recognize me". For now, I continue to be "Mascarad". "Mascarad" in the triquetra of my face- or faces.