The White Mask

Passed out anew

You woke up in a waiting room

Full of blurry magazines

You tried to focus and read

But you were excited to meet your maker



The room slowly emptied of blurry blank faces

Until you at last heard them call out your name



But when they showed you in you didn't meet your maker

Just a group like you

Holding short straws



And then the office fell into the hold of a galley boat

Where a black sandman flicked on a brick while you rowed



His "click click" ticked on with no talk to the beak of a feeding chicken

Who was pecking out a beat with his beak on the bottom of his cage at a pace you were sticking to



Until through storms of feathers

You arrived at a coast on the edge of night

Where with his one remaining flame the black man took your oars

And set them on fire



And left you there with your makeshift torches

Saying "wait just a little more

And soon you will see your maker

In the flickering lights"



But after some time

Your torches died

And it was pitch, coal, tar black



So when the

So when the white mask, white mask, white mask came at last

It was out of sight