Her stare went on for miles,
penetrating every obsolete structure
daring to be caught in her gaze.

Eyes that spoke of reservoirs,
deep wells within the vision chambers of her skull.
Her lips set motionless,
as dangerous as the stacked coils of a serpent.

The silence in the room was only broken
by the radiating electricity sizzling
the immediate airspace around her body,
as she was fuming with the quiet rage that murders you while you sleep.

Her eyebrows raise with a turn of her head,
unblinking eyes await an explanation,
penetrating your best attempts to ignore her frustration.
They say Hell hath no fury, and I’d rather take my chances with damnation.