She spilled the honey, watched it drizzle... onto the blowzy carpet. Her fingers felt the wax-like texture, scorched her sinful flesh. She sucked her melted fingertips, locked gaze with beastly flies that rested on the tabletop.
Amputating from the floor, she rested... on an empty bed. The lighting dim, the scent was must, of blush and beads of liquids gone unknown. The ceiling blue with ashen smoke turned yellow with vexation... or lack-there-of... anything.
Upon her stomach, now she lay. Her face was forced into the bed like tulips in the ground, bare of all but her muffled breath. Her lungs tasted mattress, within all the rest. The mattress left gruesome fuz on her drawn toungue.
Teeth scraped fabric, toungue and more.
Anticipated freedome couldn't come from the despair... despite the feckless attempts.
Pin on gums,
Dragging across, drawing new liquids, scraping away the honey's remains.
The leaves wouldn't sing today. She reached for their support. They flew away to leave her in constant consternation. The leaves, they left her with all but bliss, and without them she couldn't get on.
The gray streamed across her pupil in ribbons of benumbingness. And as it turned black in her veiw, altering to deep purple, then blues, she waited for it to clear as it always did.
This time was different.
The hues closed in completely, leaving nothing but black.
Keened over....