bee brain
There’s a bee in my head.
I can only speculate as to how he found his way in.
I feel his little footless appendages.
Rummaging around.
Reading vibrations to see deep into the grey custard suspending my thoughts.
I imagine his expressionless face.
A helmet made of eyes.
Anticipatory.
Hunting, restless. Agitated. Searching.
Moving so jaggedly, so constantly, his body hums a note.
The sound of desperation.
Flowers developed overtime into blooms to drive him wild.
Luscious, vibrant, pungent, velvety specters.
Is it painful, like hunger?
Is it intoxicating like lust?
I pity him.
Constantly occupied. Never satisfied.
His existence is a curse.