Hive

to be described on request.

The buzzing in my brain 
Busy like the bees 
They dance in hopes the Queen will mate. 
They tunnel in hopes to store their sweet vomit. 
Make them confused with smoke. 
This cigarette could save my life. 
And this vomit I feel creeping up my throat 
Is it sweet? 
Or just the Terrible Demon 
Squirming like a larva 
To evacuate my wretched stomach? 
It could be hungry. 
It could be hungry for me. 
And I could be starving for it. 
But as words of golden vomit erupt into my hands, 
I sigh with relief to know the drone is still inside of me. 
Still too young to dance for his Queen. 
Yet, these bees inside my head still ache for calming smoke. 
Suffocate me please. 
Bring me closer to Death 
Bring me closer to Perfection. 
And further away from who I wish to be: 
Breathing 
Incomplete 
Buzz, buzz, busy.