On the cusp
of a fragmented, fabricated universe
sits a quiet girl;
a LOUD girl;
an inspired girl;
a lonely girl;
an eccentric, thought-provoking girl,
riddled with anxiety
and anticipation
of nothingness;
of quietness—

that mistress—she longs for.

But, that lady never comes,
not for the girl anyway.

The tick-tocking
of the never stopping clock

seeps into every pore,

growing louder and louder—
that figment of tangible meaning
outside pure relativity.


Living is dying,
slowly and painfully.
Existing is that plane
of acceptance;
of fluidity;

of just being
an energy that can never be destroyed.

To reach that plane,

she’ll have found her mistress.

She’ll have found her peace.