My mind is full of fleeting thoughts,

Notions buzz by me like the drone of bees.

Their wings lift my logic and reason to the wind,

And all my purposeful desire to attain an inner state,

Seems for the wax cased honey,

Deep in the combs.

There are days that I feel the larvae move in my mind,

Stirings of new thoughts,

The naseauting onslought of emotions I can't figure out.

Like the bee,

I work and work,

Never knowing if I've done a thing right.

Only to feel that an intrusive thing comes in and

Steals my golden glory away.

I either hide in the cool of night,

Or I stay aloft by day in many a splendid colors of many


But my life,

It is just the on going drone of another

Listless, cruel day.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Sometimes, the medications one gets to trump the pain isn't worth the benifit.
Then other days, it just wouldn't be tolerable without them.

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