Hayato sat alone at the bar, avoiding the rest of the party without seeming like he was avoiding them. It was a balancing act, keeping a mask of neutrality, the bastard son’s useless and weak facade while he say among sharks.
I am a clown. I wear a mask. It’s painted on my face, it’s part of me. My mask tells me I’m happy. That I smile. Still, underneath, I work hard and I’m often tired. I’m a man just like everyone else. I have a family, I have friends, happiness and sadness. I love my job, I love the laughter, but I would love to be understood as a human, not as a mask.
Kate
I am the mask you want to wear, sir. Between the curtains, with pleasentries we meet and greet, you feel for edges, soft and dimpled, the fragrant rind once stripped peels away. How queer that I’m all you shall see? Is this some sort of labyrinth in a masquerade? What recourse do you have but to test my visage for yourself? So you project through me once you slip behind the seams, reach into the continental shelf, across the divide, and see with my eyes what’s been hidden, only now it’s in high definition, but I’m not your weapon. You are paralyzed. You do not control what moves beneath for in fusing we tightly bind, like a python I have bound by breath all our heart beats. Have one last look around before I give you, your leave and squeeze you out.
Darq
The strain
never stopped
With a smile so wide
Flanking the cheers
he hears all around
Perfectly
in place
like everyone else
is
Lynn
She wore an elaborate mask that reflected the light you gave back to you. It made her appear radiant and joyful, and complex from all angles
jess
We wear many masks. We go through life wearing masks. Nobody truly takes off the mask, as what you see beneath frightens you.
We all go through life pretending everything is okay, when in reality we are dying inside.
Preeti
There is a mask that we all wear. No one can truly know who we are except us. Different occasions require different attire. There is the mask that we for work.
Nora
Goodness, my head is chock full of the instead, but a mask is the task of not being dead. Go on bell , sound profound and make a sound.
Robert Kohlhammer
It was blank, white, with deep, dark eye holes that seemed to stretch into an endless void. It removed all trace of humanity, which was exactly what he was looking for. When they looked at him, he didn’t want them to see a man, someone who might be reasoned with, someone who might see them as human in turn. He wanted to be something else.
Annie
I like my mask. It’s protection. It serves its purpose, so why is that any of our business. I leave yours alone, don’t interfere with mine. Now sip slow but don’t swallow. One is too many.
LifesGrey
Cher. that hideous man. Men are hideous, most of them. These guys who aren;t listening anymore. Nobody pays attention these days. Their cell phones are their mamas.
Breezy
you wore a mask from the moment I saw you. hiding everything beneath. sociopathic, manipulative. telling me one thing but meaning the other. making me think you cared, when all you wanted was gratification. you’ll pay.
Stormy
She lifted the mask, lashes brushing her cheekbones as she kept her gaze on her feet. He placed a hand underneath her chin and tilted her head up, causing her to look up and meet his red gaze.
Lydia Drum
He was standing in front of the crowd, wearing a mask. Beneath the chandelier the music filled the room, the instruments stopped their singing when one of the members saw him holding a gun, letting a scream go off and alerting everyone in the room. He held his up towards me, pointing straight to my head.
We all wear a mask. It’s called our face. It’s the mask for the world. There are times when we may don a foreign mask for a dress up occasion. But otherwise the mask we were given is the one we carry with us and must use as our typical face. That’s okay. Mine’s aesthetically pleasing.
She dropped the facade altogether. “I actually came to see you.”
She watched his posture change a micron, a little more relaxed, a little more confident. “Oh?”
She nodded. He watched her face carefully, waiting for a signal. She nodded again and in an instant the distance between them closed.
The mask that she made for halloween. It was exactly as he requested. One of those classic mexican wrestler masks. You know them. Such as the likes of Blue Diamond or el mescador de plata wore. She made one just like that. And he wore it proudly on halloween.
the face that faces the mirror. matchless. moribund. stickly. entrapped. i remember the time i did LSD and when i looked in the mirror, i was godless.
boss
i’m not wearing one anymore. and it shows. there is no mystery here. sadness. some hope. but mostly a quiet knowing that had i chosen otherwise i would have probably ended up somewhere else and been just as unfulfilled.
Somehow, I can see right through your scheme. I can spot the face beneath your mask. I can count every scar you’ve collected throughout the years across your thinning skin. They form spider webs rather than constellations – cracks of age rather than strings of stars. You hold yourself upright, but your eyes beneath the plaster water, and not from the heat. Not from the strain. Not from the fatigue that you have brought upon yourself.
Belinda Roddie
The first time out the Lone Ranger put the mask on Silver. It did not have the intended effect.
Andy
My mask is my beauty.
My mask is my intelligence.
My mask is my face.
Is that a bad thing?
I strive for practice.
I strive for friendship.
I strive for improvement.
Is that a bad thing?
You say the mask is fake,
I say its protection,
so I can become
my own perfection.
– (not agreeing with this, if you want improvement, improve yourself instead)
Bridget
“Go away.”
She didn’t move. It was nighttime, and the sun was watching but not moving to intercept yet, and the moon was bleary and unobservant and wanted to go home and maybe take a nap, or maybe it wanted to cry, but only a little bit and only because it was so tired.
Hayato sat alone at the bar, avoiding the rest of the party without seeming like he was avoiding them. It was a balancing act, keeping a mask of neutrality, the bastard son’s useless and weak facade while he say among sharks.
I am a clown. I wear a mask. It’s painted on my face, it’s part of me. My mask tells me I’m happy. That I smile. Still, underneath, I work hard and I’m often tired. I’m a man just like everyone else. I have a family, I have friends, happiness and sadness. I love my job, I love the laughter, but I would love to be understood as a human, not as a mask.
I am the mask you want to wear, sir. Between the curtains, with pleasentries we meet and greet, you feel for edges, soft and dimpled, the fragrant rind once stripped peels away. How queer that I’m all you shall see? Is this some sort of labyrinth in a masquerade? What recourse do you have but to test my visage for yourself? So you project through me once you slip behind the seams, reach into the continental shelf, across the divide, and see with my eyes what’s been hidden, only now it’s in high definition, but I’m not your weapon. You are paralyzed. You do not control what moves beneath for in fusing we tightly bind, like a python I have bound by breath all our heart beats. Have one last look around before I give you, your leave and squeeze you out.
The strain
never stopped
With a smile so wide
Flanking the cheers
he hears all around
Perfectly
in place
like everyone else
is
She wore an elaborate mask that reflected the light you gave back to you. It made her appear radiant and joyful, and complex from all angles
We wear many masks. We go through life wearing masks. Nobody truly takes off the mask, as what you see beneath frightens you.
We all go through life pretending everything is okay, when in reality we are dying inside.
There is a mask that we all wear. No one can truly know who we are except us. Different occasions require different attire. There is the mask that we for work.
Goodness, my head is chock full of the instead, but a mask is the task of not being dead. Go on bell , sound profound and make a sound.
It was blank, white, with deep, dark eye holes that seemed to stretch into an endless void. It removed all trace of humanity, which was exactly what he was looking for. When they looked at him, he didn’t want them to see a man, someone who might be reasoned with, someone who might see them as human in turn. He wanted to be something else.
I like my mask. It’s protection. It serves its purpose, so why is that any of our business. I leave yours alone, don’t interfere with mine. Now sip slow but don’t swallow. One is too many.
Cher. that hideous man. Men are hideous, most of them. These guys who aren;t listening anymore. Nobody pays attention these days. Their cell phones are their mamas.
you wore a mask from the moment I saw you. hiding everything beneath. sociopathic, manipulative. telling me one thing but meaning the other. making me think you cared, when all you wanted was gratification. you’ll pay.
She lifted the mask, lashes brushing her cheekbones as she kept her gaze on her feet. He placed a hand underneath her chin and tilted her head up, causing her to look up and meet his red gaze.
He was standing in front of the crowd, wearing a mask. Beneath the chandelier the music filled the room, the instruments stopped their singing when one of the members saw him holding a gun, letting a scream go off and alerting everyone in the room. He held his up towards me, pointing straight to my head.
We all wear a mask. It’s called our face. It’s the mask for the world. There are times when we may don a foreign mask for a dress up occasion. But otherwise the mask we were given is the one we carry with us and must use as our typical face. That’s okay. Mine’s aesthetically pleasing.
She dropped the facade altogether. “I actually came to see you.”
She watched his posture change a micron, a little more relaxed, a little more confident. “Oh?”
She nodded. He watched her face carefully, waiting for a signal. She nodded again and in an instant the distance between them closed.
The mask that she made for halloween. It was exactly as he requested. One of those classic mexican wrestler masks. You know them. Such as the likes of Blue Diamond or el mescador de plata wore. She made one just like that. And he wore it proudly on halloween.
the face that faces the mirror. matchless. moribund. stickly. entrapped. i remember the time i did LSD and when i looked in the mirror, i was godless.
i’m not wearing one anymore. and it shows. there is no mystery here. sadness. some hope. but mostly a quiet knowing that had i chosen otherwise i would have probably ended up somewhere else and been just as unfulfilled.
Somehow, I can see right through your scheme. I can spot the face beneath your mask. I can count every scar you’ve collected throughout the years across your thinning skin. They form spider webs rather than constellations – cracks of age rather than strings of stars. You hold yourself upright, but your eyes beneath the plaster water, and not from the heat. Not from the strain. Not from the fatigue that you have brought upon yourself.
The first time out the Lone Ranger put the mask on Silver. It did not have the intended effect.
My mask is my beauty.
My mask is my intelligence.
My mask is my face.
Is that a bad thing?
I strive for practice.
I strive for friendship.
I strive for improvement.
Is that a bad thing?
You say the mask is fake,
I say its protection,
so I can become
my own perfection.
– (not agreeing with this, if you want improvement, improve yourself instead)
“Go away.”
She didn’t move. It was nighttime, and the sun was watching but not moving to intercept yet, and the moon was bleary and unobservant and wanted to go home and maybe take a nap, or maybe it wanted to cry, but only a little bit and only because it was so tired.