The words weren’t daggers.
Weren’t meant to ****.

They were spindly,
like needles.
But barbed.
So they latch.



I’m not grievously wounded.
Yet I’m still bleeding out...

.

The dark crept up
Sudden like a thief
  
Intent on stealing your gems
  The pearls from your neck
     That gleam in your eye

As the steam from the asphalt curled
   A hemp rope rising
       As a Cobra in the dim

To a pipers tune, in June
    Here am I, the visionary
        Reconnoiter the blank slate

Tallied awed and sputtered. How fast,
   The hand went in unfelt,
         And the sky went broke.

Fairly the human glow lights
    Of commerce flickered
          Came to a point of aura

On the hill, as the cars sped up
     And the crayon black asphalt
         Simmered and howled

Each tree gaining form
   In the blaze of headlights
    Chasing shadows down
        
The bank

The bee was forbidden from kissing flowers.

Out of the hive, she found her free will. Though
her wings fluttered under heavy turbulence.

Amazed, by the liberty that flowers held in petals, all around
She began to work on arousing subjects, in the playground.

Irises, roses, fuchsias and sunflowers.
Purple, red, pink and yellow- for endless hours.

Her mouth met many lips, sensing negative charges
She finally understood that natural energy was harmless.

Satiated, by her existential discoveries in The Garden
She returned to the tall trees to receive her pardon.

But along the path home she was surrounded.
The colours melted and mixed into grey and brown.

Unable to control the velocity to self-discovery,
Wary droplets of perfume sprayed in cries.
It was then she found her guise,
Judged by those who told lies,
Reached into her abdomen and prised,
No fail-safe to catch her from the skies.