Lost Amongst the Flowers

Distant breathing freezes winter in my bones and dredges my soul for the sowing of rotten seeds, Foul flowers on trees infested by festering fruit emerge tangled from the ichor churning mud that bare their infected roots, Wounded and flayed, my morals splash about in their pus and dismay Pray, I do, for my sense of self and my distant… I cannot complete that line of thought… I am lost among the flowers.