There are bees in my brain again.
All that's in my eardrums is the
picking,
gnawing,
chewing;
the incessant buzzing of their wings beating against my prefrontal cortex.
I can hear them working away, relentlessly, day&night;,
trying to make a home for themselves.
A hive in my head.
They have taken up residence.
They are quite comfortable.

I imagine their tiny bee legs mixing a golden, syrupysweet substance.
Thoraxes and abdomens dancing a little bee dance on my brainstem,
happily humming,
poised to pour the poison.
The sauce saturates my cerebrum.
Thickerthanhoney...molasses.
It weighs me down--adheres me to the ground.
Now I am suspended in a tub of the suffocating stuff.