Masking Off

The eve slithers toward us as
 we confess that we're attracted to
the black miasmas of our monstrous,
and we pretend-admit to feeling
what we really sometimes do,
that the dank and chilling is
lodged comfortably within us,
its tendrils attractive and alluring,
writhing from behind our façades,
easing into brief being the feeling
that evil might not be so bad
and that good is a little boring.
Happy Halloween.