This is dedicated to G.R.R. Martin and his obsession with exterminating characters with, I assume, a smirk upon his face and a spinster's elongated cigarette holder sticking up from his taut lips. Ha-yuck, yuck, yuck, he chuckles with a jutting jaw. I will beat you senseless with plush toys if you've done this for sheer shock value, Mister Man.

I saw a face when I closed my eyes.
A crooked face with wrinkles blooming from the corners of her features,
like miniature florets of folded skin; a garden abound upon her face.
When she spoke, motes of dust formed pillows surrounding her lips,
searching, as if hungry, for a confined space in which to wallow.
Outward, slowly ascending, her words tangled together obstructing my view,
like a swam of bees en masse, kicking up a raucous noise that soon distracts me.
What was I searching for?