Happiness Limited

Prestigious labels

and designer champagne

cover nothing save the demons

they wrestle into closets and 

other dark places. 

I wonder if they know

they’re teetering on bought time,

a time piece ticking off

the seconds until the last 

cog rusts.

Naïveté, like any self-respecting

lipstick, rubs off on

the crystal from which they

sip and the powdered cheeks

they kiss. 

Well, by all means, do

as the royals do

when you’re hair-spray stuck

and perfume-locked in the kingdom of 

Self Indulgence. 

Perhaps someone should break

the news that grass,

although much greener,

is not always healthier. 

Damn, sod. 

Now, if you’ll excuse me,

Marie and Louis just

arrived for their slice

of cak– I mean, heaven. 

Pardonnez-moi. 

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