here, I am invading

in incognito, i feel, i can be real.
it could be said, that, perhaps, instead,
of a mask of the occasion,  it acts, as a mask, of deep flush 'reality'
(What a horrible word, 'Reality' is. What a horrible word it can be).
is it possible, perhaps
to be existential
to be nihilistic,
and not to take upon,
those great pessimisms that hold
with existential nihilism,
to be sad,
but hold of the worse,
to hold out,
till you can again think of flighting fancies.
As so easily sways the mind on the corporal.
On the day.
I hope.
And in knowing that hope that is nestled inside the very centre of my cerebral,
fluttering it's wings, or tensing, just for the moment of a flutter,
It shivers of the cold tendrils of despair, and warms the heart a little,
just a little, but enough.