new electra(old doesn't suit her) fizzles and pops like the most carbonated of sodas. electricity bounces across her skin and even the edges of her eyes carry enough charge to kill an elephant. she walks and talks like a mass of energy, her hair spinning and her hands in the air. new electra has skin that changes from white to blue and to white again. her electric(get it?) ultramarine skin shifts and shakes like tectonic plates–new differences are always created, and old occurrences are always destroyed. the spears she holds in her hands spark white light which create stars and skies. galaxies are common, yet so are black holes. electra isn't a goddess, but she is not immortal either; death reaches even the best of us.
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i have exams next week((shit))and i need to study, so i probably won't update as much as usual
YOU ARE READING
paraphernalia
Poetrypretentious poetry. FOREWARNING: this was written over three years. my style changes dramatically, as does everything else. quality of pieces varies.
