Constantly aware
of my
input
and output,
I am the most inefficient
worker bee.
Fur wet with honey,
I cling to the insides of
hives and lose
my wings,
unable to peel them back
away from one another.

A fortress much more a home
than a homicide,
rose thorns are hardly my sting,
so I weave in and out
of their buds and barbed wire.
I am not supposed to feel
a thing.

I die for my cause.
I am what I make.

I forage in the afternoon,
and then free my sting
from my skin
decidedly.

I squished a bug
rubbed him out of existence with my thumb
quick, minimal, forgettable experience

I wonder,
are people like that?
Am I like that?

You were a giant garden, growing beauty as I, the small bug, admired all that you were and everything you became. I saw the air you breathed in and the seeds you spewed out; my spots and wings were nothing magical to you. You made life, with help from the sun, and all I did was eat everything you created. I destroyed your flowers, slowly and softly - but it took a bigger toll than I had thought it would. I thrived off the misery I caused you. You lived for life and I lived for destruction; for chaos is the only disorder that keeps us sane.

I come upon a dead butterfly in the parking lot.
The blackest asphalt sets off the shimmering seafoam scales of his one remaining wing:
A wedge of Luna and lime
against a tarmac night sky.
I wonder where the other wing is,
And when he lost it.
It might have cracked off and blown away
long after he was dead,
Like a sheet of snowflakes.
But he probably lost it while he was still living,
Hit by a car or an ignorant wayward step,
Left to flutter and stumble to his demise
Like a wounded soldier or a choking fish;
A cerulean one-winged sailboat
Overturned on the vast black pavement.

To take a life
(Like crush a bug)
It's just a fly...
I made it die

Little lady luck
bug crawls up and
stuck, I try to save her
reach for her gently
but too strong and maybe
I should've gone slower
now she is dead
and my heart it has lowered
fix her a nice bed
of dirt
and fill it with leafs
she will sleep long
though her life was so brief
miss her already
though it doesn't matter much
in the long run
but now the popcorn is done
and so back to the movie
pick up and smoke
and now what was I doing?

In a straight line I walk,
A lot of work, without talk
Under leaves and over rocks
Heavy lifts to keep our stocks

The Queen has ordered this
Everything she wants, we can't miss
Now, I regret I've followed her wish
'Cause I've risked my life with this

The enormous creature's over our heads
Makes me wanna break our thread
Its gigantic limb slowly lands
And the last thing I could do is wave my hands...