Mothula

Heavy like the body of a man drowned at the sea, now less a man and more a habitat for all things starved.

A warmth that is familiar, if not longed-for. It softens the noose of tomorrow; withers loneliness in a blanket of balsamic sweetness.

the violet and orris root are the likely culprits for this, but its distinctly powdery. a pale reflection off a dusty mirror.