I watch her
Cram herself against the front board
In stiff strangled movements
A chalk-covered cadaver
This- her posture
Elbows elevated- angled
A perfect precise 90 degrees
Spine straightened strung taught and tight
Unmoving-
Catatonic awkwardness.
Fingers firmly formed
around pink sticks of dust
Dissolving into Ashes
Blush(Like the color absent from her cheeks)
She scrawls short,
Uneven, unlevel lines
Unparallel. Unplanned.
Her jaw moves
-eating the air-
With her words
Confusing sentences
In jumbles and jargon
Roll off of her tongue
As her teeth click in foreign languages
Unfamiliar to me.
Stories of modern romanticism
Storm through our ears
Dulled by boredom and fear
(Most likely of enlightenment)
Attatched to our past