quiet, quiet
she is dancing
silent skin moving
under the twisting lights
cracking unnoticeably
quietly, like the morning sun
a leaf falls to the ground
slowly withering on the way
spiraling, turning, falling apart
mixing with her skin
and the gutter starts to fill up
and as it floats down to the sea
no one notices a few vital body parts
sinking into the mud
the light on the walls create visions
she imagines they are places
the gutter passes by so her eyes can see
she forgets where she is
she is a windmill of bones, creaking, breaking, falling
they are trees standing still and tall
soon I will be among fish, she thinks
the wind doesn't bother fish
she is dancing
they are watching and
the lightning
is about to strike
quiet, quiet