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March 25, 2013
Her palm cups her chin.
The table supports her weight through her elbow.
Her vision blurs the computer screen.
The beat bobs her head to an Imagine dragons tune.
Radioactive. Radioactive.
A passerby would recognize her zoned out state,
but there is no one to pass by her
at least not that she is aware.
Radioactive. Radioactive.

Inside her vacant mind lie esoteric viewpoints- Obscure ideas for her future, possible explanations for reality, fresh ideas for screenplays.
Radioactive. Radioactive.

These thoughts burn inside her brain.
Likely to never break through. She wonders what contorted ideas of others have never surfaced.