on my guard

I am tired -
of phony smiles
expensive scents
and sprits
and inexpensive
consciences.
Free loves
and freer moralities.
People meandering
through the party
with their
insignificant others
“How are you?’s
and no answers
listened to.
Virtual memories,
and artificial laughter
I am so tired,
but I cannot,
not for a second,
let it be known
that I am not
one of them
once they know
they will
Sympathize
‘Tch tch’, they’ll whisper
‘She seemed so normal.’