I swell through my shirt
as I am a nest of allergies.

The bees bite my throat and die,
and I humble-brag.
I pretend not to gloat.
I survive it all.

I swell through my shirt
with the venom of said knowledge:
the honey that I steal.

Though I pretend to be wise,
I had stuffed the honeycomb into my vise.
I pretend to eat bees,
but during my contemplation, they eat me.

I disturb, but I don’t run.
I sit there and memorize…
the honey their tails memorize me.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s