White Pebble Noise

She does not eat, she does not sleep. Her mind is now full of white pebble noise, horrible-terrible white pebble noise embedded on the floors of her sanity.

She bathes in dirty discontent and rinses her hair with wild disgust, being cleansed only of possibility. Today is a new day and she will ride the monotony train to nowhere once again.

Her stride is slow, weak and steady. She rides the roads of perdition accompanied by solitude, a neurotic romancer and countless undercover agents. White sudden flashes scream of reality lying somewhere outside the curtains, that and the sun rays every other opening of an eye, every other day, every forgotten, forbidden, forsaken chance.

Four-hundred friends don’t make a one as she stares at her white line of loneliness. She proceeds to inhale boredom night after day and gets a high that resembles all the worlds lows. Nevertheless she “pokes” them trough the social network lightly- from afar,  as if possessed by an infectious societal phobia.

Hidden behind smoke bars that trapped her former soul and essence, she dances with the moon violently the songs of disenchantment. After a long night of staring hard at the nothingness of sorrow she rides her horse’s carriage in to the only world she lives truly; the universe of dreams.

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