I have only seen your garden in postcards. It is a beauty I can only

imagine where I nuzzle the sweet petals of delicate blossoms the
nectar sweet as blood and deadly as a curse.  I wander the gentle
curves of the white winding paths paved with crushed skulls and I
have sought the shade under trees that bare the shriven fruit of
last year’s bounty, the lucky hearts of those fortunate souls.
Enraptured of the stinging wasps and assassin bugs the air is alive
with pain. Each succulent shrubbery resplendent with piercing
thorns or cancerous poison. I want to get my hands dirty sifting
amongst the earthworms and corpses to find the source of such
magnificence.




.