"Untitled"
Seeking just a taste of your honey,
I filled my heart with bees.
They nest in my ventricles,
my blood must flow through honeycombs
Why did I fill my heart with bees?
No explanation remains, only the stinging and buzzing
Seeking to preserve this feeling forever,
I dipped my heart in a vat of brine,
smoked it over hickory
and left it to dry for weeks.
Why did I cure my heart?
It's leather doesn't speak, or feel. It creaks.
Seeking just to stop the burning,
I put my heart on ice.
It'll keep for weeks, but when I take it out
I must use it right away, so it sits
Why did I freeze my heart?
I thought it would save my life.
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