A young girl sits catatonic in an asylum, dead flowers scattered at her feet.

DEAD FLOWERS

All my flowers are dead.

No measure of hours,
day in, day out
cold fingers of mold damp
fingering my nostrils
in cryptic drafts;
corpse-like and spongy
is the icy floor, ruthless
beneath my bare and distant feet.

Ghosts and apparitions
come in, go out,
visiting me, strangely urgent
mouths flapping fishlike
with alien sounds;
distorted humanities in
faces, groping for me;
less then the ticking of my heart.



Thanks go out to
barefootliam-stock [link] (for a wonderful ambient star piece)
jomina-stock [link] (this piece was especially for him and his wonderful model)
lunastock [link] (for her stunning architecture)
69stoc [link] (for excellent moody hardware)
berrystock [link] (for lovely props)
and borrowedwings [link] (for the excellent textural resouces)