My asylum has a garden where I sometimes walk, pretending that the soothing drugs that storm my veins are the sober bliss of sunshine on my skin, that the bruising on my arms comes from gardening, not from restraints they use to tie me to my dreams.
I am allowed to walk alone, counterclockwise only, but I often crave to rip apart and plunge my fingers into the topsoil, destroy this beauty for my cherished thistles I’d like, too, to plant.
The sweet alyssum that smells like honey and peace pursues me, tries to lure me sane, but my lungs are raging with a miasma of baneful nightshades.
I have ceased to wonder why I sought ferocious fame. I know what I have done, I can revel in my wicked deeds, but here I linger, saved from their revenge behind my mask of madness.
Today Sanaa hosts the Prosery at dVerse and she gives us the line “I’d like, too, to plant the sweet alyssum that smells like honey and peace.” from the poem, “What I would like to grow in my Garden.” by Katherine Riegel. Before even googling the flower alyssum (which I know well) I read Asylum which took me down my normal fictional murderous path