Sucking Dry Honey

a thousand restless fingers pluck along my nerves and crawl swarming bees over my flesh sucking dry honey and I as a comb am empty waiting on the waxing moon to bring in the tide exposed and littered on the cracked seabed lighting beeswax candles impromptu runway lights for those aeroplanes who always fail to land and wasted afternoons fade into wasted nights tossing to and fro I sleep under the cupboards instead

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