Icarus.

Today, we find Sel, standing on the edge of a cliff;

Wind twisting through her hair and betwixt her fingers.
She contemplates a leap,
automatically blanches at the idea of suicide,
then considers the thought..
still finding the motion an inapt way to fix her problems she looks down the rock face.

flight.

now that seems a much more appealing escape.
Glancing at the brilliantly shining moon, she starts contemplating,

devising,

calculating.

a murder of crows screams by.

looking down at her hands she smiles. Her fingers are stained, regretful.. hands blotted with black. A crime of passion.

She turns..walks.

..

Outside. dusk.
Wanderer sits..twirling a dried rose in her hand, dwelling.
Blind looks at her, picks up a crackled rose from the pile accumulated near the girl then asks,
"why do you like these things so much?"
Wanderers response: "I don't know..I think they're beautiful..."

"but they're dead.."

"I know..thats...part of the fascination,
they're beautiful in their lack of life..."

"huh.."

liar liar.

mid afternoon.

Wanderer slumps against a wall in defeat,
a smoldering cigarette flares between her lips as she takes a
somewhat desperate drag in an attempt to slake the pain and anger
raging inside her.
"I hate liars." she mumbles uselessly to the pair standing above her.
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