jo

her cadaverous face contrasts her bursting, burning eyes, so full of ugly longing, like battered street cats on top of walls. everyday her stockings are unnoticedly torn revealing rough skin. she is far from beauty and it surrounds her beacuse. but days are when her voice is softer, and sweeter, and only well deserved.
she matches nothin. she isnt any color, she is tranparent, nebula or invisible completely.
she is like dread plaited into a braid.
or like curdled milk.
and pins in noise, and coal on winter skin.