277.

All her secret hopes
hang in those eyes, shuddering
out with each slow blink.

276.

The bite of his tongue
falls to harsh vainglory in
the light of morning.

275.

What is so very
different about today
when it comes to fools,

as ever, needing
to be held up and suffered?
Intended targets?

274.

Divergent choices
lead the heart toward bloodbaths
or sweet nirvana.

273.

The migration of
our hearts moves together and
apart. Pulling hard.

272.

The chartreuse skyline
hangs, as if holding the haze
of dreams in its depths.

271.

The slow surrender
of time creeps over my skin
in soft seduction.