a heartbeat, broken bottles of perfume, their sweet smell cloying in the close air
her heartbeat, racing, a steady rampant thing in the close space of her chest, pounding -- again and again
a heartbeat, the art of artisty, lost to her, now, her face painted in streaks of red lipstick, now again beating, the pulse of masks making and un-making, who once she was, who she'll never be again
