You Choose Not To See

i have been hiding in plain sight,

everted and flaming

but forming such a discreet chimney of my mouth,

volcanic ash exhaled as incense,

rotting wounds expertly concealed

with such drippy sweetness

you'd believe a fistful of pomegranate seeds had exploded on your 

tongue,

their juices ravishing you hubris,

to loose the mask in my death throes

will make a strange viaticum indeed.