flowers and endings...

we must get back inside. we are lost among faces.

"faces?" you say. no, you ask.

maybe not faces, souls, spirits, people, feelings, aspirations, expectations. can't i just say faces? serious, deadly serious, to regard something to be as serious as death.

well.

can you believe it? no, of course not. i'm lost. i do see flowers. lots of flowers. pink ones, purple, white yellow, green orange, brightly glowing. roses. rust colored roses, maybe the color of dried blood. huge gorgeous roses. red roses. red tipped, pink, and white roses.

flowers. wafting with thick perfume. a dizzy smell. a fragrance you drink in and can't stop until you are drunk with the rich heavy perfume.

flowers. i can imagine standing in a field filled with these flowers drinking in the smell and entranced by the colors.

flowers. i can see flowers on a corsage at the prom. flowers on the altar and held in a bouquet at a wedding. flowers for valentines, sickness, birthdays, anniversaries. flowers in a cabin. flowers on my casket at my funeral. flowers on my gravesite in the hot summertime.

flowers. do you see all the flowers? i hate flowers. i love flowers.

flowers. do you see all the flowers?