And Then The Synapses Misfired and Things No Longer Make Sense

swarms of sleeping larvae are writhing in this fleshcase, gently reminding that existence continues, even if apparent life does not. sleeping forever, after all, is hardly a punishment. gather up the twilight-haze and tie it with an atropa belladonna bouquet, so innocent and explosive in its deadly deception.

lavender poisons the air as lips whisper unheard words to a far-off ear no one can see. but not even the most powerful of ear trumpets, as far as it will burrow, can amplify the sound.

the toxic mist moves in like a silent stampede, and, much to the terror of the unknowing masses, brings apathy wherever it goes.