Honey thick and golden sticky and healing,
Warm to the soul like words of kind,
Dear child of Honey, be sweet, sticky, warm and kind to all around,
No matter how cane they may be,
Bitter, hard, brown, sour or cold be Honig to them,
For one gift of Honey shall turn from a creek into a river.

Voices
            Voices
                         Voices
Constantly speaking,
Raging
              Whispering
Talking?

Why won't they be QUIET,
silence...
Speaking; chatting; voices
                  Voices
   Voices

I can hear them in my head.
They speak louder at night,
All I want is sleep in my bed.
The sound in my head is like a bite.

No not sound.
Voices
               Voices
                                 Voices.

No sleep for me,
No sleep for them.
So why do they speak faster,
While my mind slinks slower.

Wait...
            silence...
                             At last...

The voices begin to sleep
Yet my mind is awake.
Thinking, guessing, hurting.
My eyes are heavy while my head is light.

The voices.
They talk again.
Simple, easing, slow.
Their words flow like honey.

Sweet and savory,
Whispering truths of the past...
Or are they my living lies.
My eyes do not know.

For they drop to darkness,
Ending the voices noise
From the fore and bringing
The sweet darkness of dark sleep.

Hello there busy Bee
Buzz around and pollinate this tree
Oh! And make some sweet honey for Me!

you were my spring honey
the aftertaste of your lips dripped from my own
from my chin down my neck,
leaving yellow streaks
slowly choking the air out of my lungs
suffocating me with your sweet affection
i think we may need a break

©L.F.