gracie

 the leaves move gracefully as they rustle through the front yard. the same wind that has kept her up all night, now softly brushes her hair away from her eyes as she shuts them one final time tonight.
time.
it becomes non existent as the smoke fills her lungs and she slowly drifts out of consciousness. time and time again the same scenario repeats itself.
time.
seconds and the ticking of the clock. minutes and the very drops of water that she could hear leaking from her studio's kitchen faucet. time and it's painful reminder that she is still here. will be here. will stay here; because where else could she go wandering off to unless she allows the smoke within? unless she allows herself the softened hours to drift within her own mind of tangled thoughts and insane spins. hours that could never turn to days because there was never enough smoke, never enough room to fully become transparent in a world so dark.

 so, the drift begins and she is calm. she starts off gradual as she floats over the sleeping sunflowers and whispering trees. her skin tingling from the present numbness now begins to feel the night's cool air that carries just a hint of jasmine scent. the moon still high above her and hundreds, thousands, of bodies laying down below her.
 she is light and clear minded, mellow and relaxed. all that could possibly be wrong or go wrong lays still below her in a magenta fury, only hours away.
 deep breaths and shaving of minutes leads to a deflation of sorts. she floats lower and lower until her feet can touch the ground and her skin burns again. attacked by heavy eyes and a pounding headache she lays down on the grass once again and awaits sunrise. awaits the sun's warmth that so graciously pushes away the burning tugging of the night's vicious anger. awake again to face a day of disappointments. a day of minutes. a day of truths.