luminosity pushpins releasing the blaze from within flushed fingertips sweaty palm I've been holding the light in all along I gloss it over with sick eyes but its selfish and addicting to keep a glow burning your fist --light likes to be free and the raw pain of sunshine welling up is what I'll suffer to feel all the heat warms places too intransigently abstract to call places, but focusing, the shining beam trickles and skips along the invious lines of my palm and the luminosity might be hidden but it might just so long as it is. and it is released. 020804 what's it to you? who go blather from