Silence melting in her mouth. Her teeth
chattering in slow motion, soundless horror of the
daily grind. Her tongue caressing a façade of saccharine joy
from the too-often bouts of laughter
that fizz out upon examination.
Her eyes, darting around the world in
eighty seconds, two pupils
of the eternal didactism that clutches her heart—
her heart, palpitating purple pulp,
gushing out the lifeblood of anguish
turned mockery turned romance.
Her hands, how they search for feeling
like two bloated tarantulas in the equinoctial abyss,
hop from here to there and abruptly they are falling,
hairy legs flailing, through a rather deep hole
in the center of her head.