Mount Everfall wanting things from people who don't want to give them to me.

the boy sprouted and grew before his eye.

that black head was watching him, all its million eyes. from its mouth grew a flower, and another, and another, refracting in his spiraling imagination until a bouquet stuffed his mouth.

he saw vines climbing up his throat and out.

the ghost reached for one and another; he missed each attempt, dulled. misjudging distances. clipping grass more often than the one bulb held before him - but he didn't see it, he saw proliferation of everything. repetition. mindlessness.

a pitiful sound crawled up the ghost's throat and he sank back, letting it pour out of him as a yawn. he fell back, and became at flowerbed; limbs becoming branches, reaching up, lazy and hazy and unreal.