3 Dimensional Interactive Movies

sonnet #1,603

There you pass flaring nostrils flexing air,
On point of blanking me out near point blank,
And you could sniff, too, certify my rank,
That'd be you; well, I wouldn't sigh or care.
Then after satin tailored tight I stare,
Especial seemly seams down either flank
Things could be worse, so wild good luck I thank,
I go through what you said in plumb despair.
A rotten bishop who's self pinned on pawns?
A pawn in zugzwang working worse and worse?
How can I lift the touch it-move-it curse?
Is stalemate sleepless, squared off dusks and dawns?
Or are you bluffing momentous moment?
What's the game in your beguiling foment?

(Chorus)

o moment
o happenstance
o occasion