Could SHARPNESS be something like, the Calm before the Storm? That tingling at the roots of your every hair, that signals either a thunderstorm, or a really profound insight? Yes?

Or is SHARPNESS like a paper cut, so thin it's invisible to the unaided eye, yet so agonizing you almost want to throw yourself in front of a lorry just to make it please stop?

Or is SHARPNESS a state of mind--a Sealy Posturepedic as a bed of nails, a blunt blank wall the brush of a thousand razory claws?

SHARPNESS is a certain colour of the sky, nameless, insatiable even after devouring a whole Sun.

K. S.