I am up past everyone else again. Today was pretty run of the mill. Got a pedicure with my cousin and, let me tell you what, it's boring! You sit around in a poofy chair and pretend to make small talk with some stranger. Or if you want, you can read a magazine and pretend there isn't some stranger rubbing the callouses off your hardened paws. It's strange what women do to themselves. The women kept plugging her amazing eyelash extension work. And all I could think was, "You saying my eyelashes are too short?"
It's also a damn travesty how damn expensive it is to upkeep your "beauty".
But, the rant shall continue another time. For now, here's something I wrote on the fly and didn't really edit. It's probably not done, but Im starting to feel tired.
She speaks with words I've read in Bibles
and moves like silk sliding on her skin.
And her skin,
her skin,
is white.
It soaks up moonlight,
beams breathing from her pores.
She wanders caverns long fallen from use
like a spectre in the night
Her pale white glistens,
but her hair,
her hair
is black.
It dribbles down her back
playing delicately on her spine.
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