Is it lonely in your spurious caboose
holding hands with desperate strangers
bathing in the knowledge that they love you
with their prying eyes and gluttonous, dripping beaks
Is it empty in that compartment that you decorate with care
with the dizzy pictures and beguiling tales of glitzy bargain basement fantasies
that ordinary people dream about but don't have the courage to take for themselves
For now you are safely kept within the thin veneer that you hold up so boldly
But it's only a matter of time before your lies stretch
painful and cracking
making their way through your limbs
one by one
squeezing and burning out of your skin for everyone to see
with horror and disappointment
Leaving behind a stinking shell;
the insecure schlemiel playing dress up...
