The white of her eyes was visible, chasing away the blue as she shivered and trembled with the claim of addiction. Tequila and peyote ran through her veins. Chasing lightning.
Her soul maybe was chasing lightning bugs in open fields. Racing after them as in a dream's thick hallucination her wheat dark hair seemed molten gold and her eyes brilliant jewels. A shining vessel of sun and sky.
The highs and lows. St Croix had come from the bed of death and found it had taken a bit of her soul and made her different.
They might as well have said her name was a summon. An incantation of invite for power to something surreal and serene.
This wasn't magic but something more. Something she couldn't escape.
Life and Death she'd seen both sides. Parted the veil till the prairie dove seemed more meant for omens on the black wings of a bird.
They had taken so much from her. Her body, even her mind at times. She had given it over so willingly.
They had gone to far. And the panic had set in. Leaving her discarded like a toy no longer desired on the side of the road. Broken. Dead.
So they would think. That day she had died she did not see the white light or a long blazing tunnel. Instead she saw wolves and the vision of a man that seemed not meant to belong in this world. Unnatural.
He took every waking moment of her thoughts. Raven black omen bird with the dark hungry eyes of a wolf. Captivated by hallucination she lost herself to the self depreciation of addiction.
It would silence that cry in her spirit.
Her soul maybe was chasing lightning bugs in open fields. Racing after them as in a dream's thick hallucination her wheat dark hair seemed molten gold and her eyes brilliant jewels. A shining vessel of sun and sky.
The highs and lows. St Croix had come from the bed of death and found it had taken a bit of her soul and made her different.
They might as well have said her name was a summon. An incantation of invite for power to something surreal and serene.
This wasn't magic but something more. Something she couldn't escape.
Life and Death she'd seen both sides. Parted the veil till the prairie dove seemed more meant for omens on the black wings of a bird.
They had taken so much from her. Her body, even her mind at times. She had given it over so willingly.
They had gone to far. And the panic had set in. Leaving her discarded like a toy no longer desired on the side of the road. Broken. Dead.
So they would think. That day she had died she did not see the white light or a long blazing tunnel. Instead she saw wolves and the vision of a man that seemed not meant to belong in this world. Unnatural.
He took every waking moment of her thoughts. Raven black omen bird with the dark hungry eyes of a wolf. Captivated by hallucination she lost herself to the self depreciation of addiction.
It would silence that cry in her spirit.