Disgust, I feel you

But find you difficult to understand

How strange

That you are the face

Hiding under the mask of pleasure

Why, I wonder

Is pleasure your grace;

And your disgrace?

What do you want me to see

Now that you and I

Stand face to face?

…That things are

Not what they seem

That their charm is fleeting

And that a lie

Needs ingenuity

To seem like the truth.

Things are what they are.

Their correct proportion

Is a sense cultivated

Through dispassion and distance

Knowing fully well

That pleasure is a gift

Of the imagination

And disgust-

An ironical reminder of that.