I watch actors make rules to love only to break and reshape when others enter stage.

How many walls to build to break?

4th
16th,
64?

Solar eclipse wore the chorus
like the string show,
that pulls on his connected joints to the plot.

Sandbags releasing more tension
than stent  
   to artery
       to a heart,
a BURST
               of emotion across this platform,
       rain into the audiences eyes in musical crimson cascade shards of glass for sentimental effects...

That plunger pulled precision ******
from the veins of the actor,
shamed to have said, "I love you", ever again.

Shame on the red spector , the actor and the writer. All shadow, casting doubt into what it means to relate,
to touch.