With tattered eyes
under her dreary eyes
she travels to
the bottom of
kerosene lip-smacking
bottles
she stops by
the acidic burn
of cigarette smoke
her plane has crashed
but she is still in search of a high.
She is breathless
she is oxygen
she is a walking epitome of shattered
with edges sharp enough
to cut the silence in the room
the room with a dangling rope swing
into oblivion.