there is fiction in the space between

i'm mesmerized by her--the glint of light off pearly whites, graceful curve of neck, tattoo almost begging me to stare. but not even the silvers mixed in shiny blacks or the nimbleness of her fingers as she bends over her craft is enough to distract my brain sufficiently.
sharp is all i crave, anymore. perhaps as a way to evade more permanent solutions or maybe just to give me a reason to feel however i do.
it's an irony that obvious answers are almost non-options. i understand why they call it health insurance now....when you don't have it, it ensures you stay healthy. Sick simply isn't an option.