~
Lipstick to void. She is a race against time. The beveled past a disruption in her lines of influence.

Travel is dangerous, and tonight it darkens the highway of blood vessels coursing through her extremities. She wants to be luminous and under the skin.

While Dorothy dreams of tornadoes in Kansas, she dreams of remote climbs in lesser Glasgow, of party drugs in Tokyo. How many lights does she see?

In her hair are sixty circuits. But she waits, religiously inclined on the hotel bed. She drove through ghosts to get here wearing nothing but Las Vegas.

So strange at this hour, in a city full of sleepwalkers for the taking, she now dreams she's a bulldozer, she now dreams she's alone in an empty field.
~

Shall I spill words?
Shall I spill tears?
Or Shall I spill blood?
Indegenious to my nature is the fact,
That it can't stay,
It needs to flow,
It needs to be felt and heard by another existence,
A much kinder and understanding one
Hitherto,
the sacrifice to spill has left a dauntingly adverse repression,
Nothing has sustained,
all has been robbed,
"Shall I spill away all that has been left of me?"she wonders

Can we be more than just a  produce for this world?
Conjoined to the core so I can claim you mine,
So I can feel more than your flesh and blood,
So I can feel your soul and it's innocence,
With a quill I shall write our sorrows together,
Yet describing the depth of your eyes is all my quill is bound to do,
You colonized my heart with one embrace,
Claiming everything yours,
It was already yours,
But I would rather write than say,
It's all a shattered spectacle can do,
The hum of your heart is rather enticing,
Its coarse yet delicate how surprising,
"You are a whim of my heart" is all I can say
A whim that shall never perish and ruin me away

She was the villain.
She could feel it
In her heart—
Yet there was nothing,
Not a “sorry”
That could salvage
What she had done.
We are all heroes
And villains in
One and another’s
Lives—
but she still wished
she could be
     only the light