skin

flawless, perfect, like a canvas untainted and draw the cartoon character amusing. to who? fresh grapes squeezed into a half filled cup, a tiny cup that easily overflows but the critics call this fraud. why? love is hard work, sacrifice, often doing things you do not want to - sacrifice, the alternative is glittering shiny stars like the one the kindergarten teacher gave when you got it all right. it is quite obvious love is inferior, is it? a face that smiles could mean many things, a smile reflects back, it is how things goes - till another simply glares because a smile could mean too many things. the current is strong, it's impolite! no one ask who are you playing against, the question is more often what are you getting out of this? it's short sighted, it works, till it does not. we bury the invoices, debts, the liabilities like kids hiding treasures in the forest, this forest is life with mythic creatures, medusa quite alive, hades lurks in shadows, but prometheus is still grinding away. the fires sizzles out, for the devil has seen every move, every calculation: prometheus has left the scene, no one cares about a god grinding away or a fire burning out, till the final pieces are seen. like wei qi, the colors all change to black. it was a fair game was it not? free choice? and fire is the silver lining, no one wants - it burns, it stings, it devours all those fleshy delights!