So many small revolutions, coils tightened snug in proximity. The movement slow but
relentless, like morning glory. Vines crawl, squeeze the host.
Tendrils of self-assured thought complicate the vine through twist of rhetoric, broadening
leaves. They enter hollows, bitter the root. Thieves of nourishment and constrictors
of fluid-flow create a garden of non-diverse selection.
Such things are pervasive, snack on finer things like sunshine, leaving little.
Though they root in other gardens, they creep over borders and at times I cannot find
the source. Perhaps they have established here too. It is difficult to breathe.
It is a gardener's work to allow the vulnerable to flourish.
