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.