Published on: 1/19/2010
Post-Modern Apiary

My colony mimics a beehive,
except I have not waggled with
anyone who wasn't born a drone.
Each morning we set our buzzes to the
same humming frequency because
we want to feel the therapeutic static
while we bumble through the entire
calendar on emotional cruise control.
We've enough honey to feed all of
us deep into the paradise of sterile
sameness because what could be
blander than the unsweetened ol'
repetition of honey all bloomin' day?

Gaze around. We're tawdry exhibits
in a viscerally retarded wax museum.
This place gives me the hives real bad.