the tired ashen coloured eyes illuminated by
the faint light of the pale moon- a figure only 
running on the profuse amount jack daniel's 
in her belly. her thoughts only to driving her
insomnia, and keep her up until the vibrancy
of the sun just appears over the horizon line, 
nothing changed from last night to the early 
morning-- a still and never changing figure, 
a waste of fresh oxygen and space.

LITERATE ANONYMOUS
1ST OR 3RD PERSON -- SCENES 
APPRECIATED NOT NECESSARY