I smiled that kind of icy blue smile of a noonday
reckoning, the tied together two of tell-tale pictures
i've sketched in sand castle plots and plans. similar
starting points, both for sin and shooting blanks. but
it's always the unseen sharp pang; the awkward rhythm
of the dance like a tick-tock clock in that heart of
hearts repeating, "there is no happy here, there is no
happy here..." devil may care touches trickled down
spine, thigh, and breast may never truly illuminate
the finer art of heartwork.