Hello all,
I read Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Mask of the Red Death” about a week ago and although the story doesn’t focus on this element, I was intrigued by the idea of a faceless individual. Then, I started thinking about someone without any of the 5 senses and what sort of serenity that must mean. So, below is that poem–the first nonpolitical one in a minute. Anyway, let me know what you think, if you decide to read it.
Faceless, Without Sense
Head made entirely of its fore
Wrinkles emotional facades
From a strangely construed
Countenance, faceless and
Graceless, it escapes this
World into its own, within,
Not without, it shapes its
Selfish pleasure free from
You and me, deceit and
Destruction—only its own
Construction of dysfunction
Could cloud its mind's eye;
Though it is unblinded by
Depression or unhealthy
Obsession because it is
Without outward oppression,
Lacking context for hatred
Because it cannot be berated,
It has only marinated in a
Mind minding its own business,
Unaware of others’ interests
And dedicated to its own, so that
Happiness isn’t fleeting, but
A feeling that is constantly fulfilling.
Jogging the Mind 