She stares out the lessening window.
Rain hits hard against her forehead
against the glass. Cold seeps
into the hand falling away
falling down.
Where are you?
This city is foreign, this city is not home.
Alone the dark approaches from beyond
the black waters beyond the seventh floor.
Music fills the space between deep breaths
between the shifting body disconnected from the
displaced mind floating beyond the glass.
Staring through rain drops the distortion
through street lamps calms the being
within being drawn outward in this city
of chaos the fray lives on cement corners.
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| Used With Permission from Twisted Root Studios |
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| Used With Permission from Twisted Root Studios |
