bee stings
being very high and exposed to his dapper ways, the flick-knife wit of him, all polished sexuality with a guilt-trip powdered complexion, the ceremony was performed as unlike a needle he fell softly and made the honey a sleeping bee of dreams, well until the next time, all those labour pains for this dumb love, you ridden until sleeping, the nectar from flowers carried away slippery in stinging hands, oh love you assemble your own dreams if you wish.a ceremony of needle and honey, hands in sexual guilt dreams, well exposed all a very high time, the knife of a slipped in joke is pain and love and dapper polished sleep, all the bee can do is wish and sting her way into a polished flicker of sun, very complex handling of dreams riddles the wishes and makes a performance of pleasures, for this nectar is the carried flower of quiet chaos, unlike any soft despair or murmur of flowery labour.
the dream is a wish of pleasure into a knife of flickering sting and sun, the chaos of honey ripples the bee's slipped pain and love, polished jokes and love are needled in time, for this perfomance is the nectar of murmured sex and sleep.
love is a dream and bees can sting. that is all you need to know in this flickering chaos, honey. rip me a murmur of high pain, for dumb and perfomed slippages are handled with pleasure, oh well the knife is a perfomance of despair, and flowers are a stinging love, sweet wit of ceremony, I illicit the exposed and soft sleep of you, ride time, fall or sleep, or wish-nectar it until the next time.
posted by Cathy @ 12:46 PM
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