"a caught tendril of bryonia diocia"

hanging to a branch below the cribriform plate

of my sphenoid in the right temporal lobe

a tendril wraps the sarcophogus, a thick coil encircles her neck, the cribriform plate, and a single green stem extends across her mouth. She clutches the stem in both hands, as if trying to pry it off with her nails. The tendril then retracted, taking the glass coffin with it. The coffin was placed gently on the ground in front of her. The coffin was a sarcaphagus.

"You are mine," she said.

The coffin's glass cover slid open. He lay inside clothed in a long robes covered in tendrils.

"You are mine," she said.

I would like to think that that has something to do with us and our connection with nature, the scatophagus sarcaphagus

[...]