I'm Just Scratching the Surface (because that's where it itches)

I am uniquely superficial in the way I act and speak,
And my emotions artificial for six days out of the week.
Oh, I say odd stuff and nonsense just to hear the way I sound,
Without affect or pretense, how the wisecracks they abound.
They flee my tongue like flocks of birds, all migrating south.
Meaningless, my witty words! I just cannot shut my mouth.
That “me” who felt, he up and died. I'm unmoved by grief or woe!
I’m laughing on the outside, and that’s as deep as I will go.
But please don’t think ill of me; I’ve got catharsis by the throat!
Every seventh day I set it free … I pull the shades, and I emote.