breathing sickness unto glass
drawing interpretations while intact
but windows shatter,
as circles last
white light shining through a prism
becoming nothing or chaos with
what a smile, is what they really should say
such dumb blankness full of meaning
staring back, unflinching, smiling
sitting still, staring at the same painting
the feelings we have are ours alone,
and in the end they shouldn't be touched.
what a smile, is what they really should say
so be cautious of things we frame in the dead of the night
an attempt to breach the disconnect in all the wrong ways,
instead we must create,
and take the place of god

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