Wednesday, June 30, 2010

The noise screams at me, ripping at my ears with such vigor that I cannot deny it access to the root of my brain. It roosts on the spinnacle of my spine, a beehive taking falcon form. I respect it's grandeur and allow it's honey to flow through my veins. I sit back tasting the honey-blood on my lips, waiting to be free from the splendor of it all.

1 comment:

  1. It sounds frighting and lovely at the same time. I am fearful.