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she is the sound of exhaustion,

gritty palms and pulsating temples



to achieve a purpose that couldn't

be any further

than the moon.

she has eyes made of gold

a mind shaped

and molded

from decayed abilities,


there is a wildness in her comfort

a grace in her grave.

she is unfiltered humor,

an obnoxious laugh

of blindingly refreshing hysteria.


she is the glitter in the gutter.

that accidental flower which blossomed

in between 2 gritty slabs of concrete



but stunning and lovely.

she is a sly grin,

a menacing yet graceful form

of clarity,

pushing through each disastrous situation

with poise.

with light.


she is unquestioning.

so certain in her appeal

yet so subtle in her outreach.


in relativity

yet, at ease

with gravity.

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