The Answer Is Always Man

Down, down, down
lay me down in the garden of evil
beneath waning moon
let night chill our flesh
silence the days complaint
with songs of wildlife consorts.

We become real
when
the artificial world
number sequence falls away
to stretching of bones
in dancing skin suits 
claw, fur, fang exposed.

I morph into golden eyed sphinx
my false knight wields 
stolen spear and shield. 
Shall I grant entrance,
devour lie as riddle complete,
avert my gaze,
continue ignore the truth
of our tangled situation?