A shadow up at midnight, scrolling
through endless the labyrinth of
of burning pixeled pictures and
meaningless drivel of the
websites.

Eyes glaze.
Her heart pounds unsteadily
as she bleeds from fictional wounds
inflicted by overactive
imagination and lack of sleep.

She’s desperate for an emotional high
that doesn’t come from caffeine
or hormonal imbalances
That are so common at
her age.

Will life?
Will life go on and
does she want it to, really?
Will it always be so still?
Will she ever find the meaning she craves?


Somewhere life is not static but
for the girl all is still, so
still it breaks her bones-- just thinking
about the apathy--
like ice.