The mind's volatile anxieties leave a turbulent froth at the receding tide of her self-awareness as she rolls into the same bed she had restlessly occupied 15 hours earlier. Sleep both haunts and evades her. Stark, flushed cheeks bearing a shocking resemblance to overripe papaya nestle beneath a neglected mane whose strands have born the day's events not without valor. She arranges and re-arranges her thoughts, as one would a bouquet of half-awake, half-bloomed wildflowers, yet to reach full maturation and brilliance of character. Finally unable to finish a cup of strong coffee for her distractedness, she is resigned to top off the various rings of stagnant residue with scalding water in a (vain) effort to preserve her brooding temperament and consciousness.

1 comment:

  1. danggggg girl you can write. Throw those words down on that page more often!