473.

The hold of passion
here, qualified in lies and
lasting betrayal.

472.

A massacre of
expended motion, spent and
forever wanting.

471.

An army of cheap
automatons, feigning life
across a small screen.

470.

Impatient hands twist
into that hair, pushing at
emotion's maelstrom.

469.

The sky is veiled in
gentle cloud's opaque cover,
raining down a fog.

468.

She dresses herself
in his vision, cloaking skin
with a hungry need.

467.

You strange, beautiful,
amazing creature; keep on
coloring me bright.