And in his head, succubi. And in his head, eyes watching. And in his head, minds impinging. And in his head titillation

 

                                                

for a gardenia                                                                          a water lily

 

They watched. They watched and they drank from the deep troubled pool of his mind.

 

                                                

a rose                                                                                      a hyacinth

 

The sucked deeply at the moist quivering core of his id. And they delighted…

 

                                                

a pair of phlox                                                                         a wild celandine

 

 

back they plunged in the spiral as it spiraled back in upon itself and the darkness of the night of 1888

withdrew. The spiral drew in and in and locked at its most infinitesimal point as

the charred and blackened face

of the man who had been the

bull thistle

 

 

Did you draw off too deeply?