in the gutter, she lost herself in waves and echoes
she found colors in their noise
brought her soul out as a brush
and let herself be free

building off of the whispers in the air,
she tangles herself in the wires of headphones much too silent
her hands wailing with her: offkey but peaceful
making art of a dartboard rather than a bullseye

she hears the texture, hears the emphasis, and the contrast
she paints notes, paints not so pitch-perfect progressions
bathing until her eardrums shake
and the canvas leaves no room for silence