The bees gather together mentally for a taste of honey dew. The money is due, that is bills need paid. The last idea has flown away to make space for the novel idea that buzzes about. An entire novel in a paragraph. An entire life in flowers and grass. Who will last? I see the honey but can not taste it for fear of being stung by the newest thought. I was brought another flower as a giddy gift but I ran. I made a bee line into the hive to hide from the abundance of sounds that flowers attract. Sorry, and yes, I am very thankful for the gift but this kind of gift will sift through the minds like hot honey in cold turkey. That’s how I stop everything. Now the turnkey businesses seem like such a sure thing. As sure as flowers attract birds that chase bees. What’s next for me? Not sure anymore, not until I finish this honey dew. Not sure until these bills are no longer over due. I do understand that I have an idea but I don’t understand the flight of the bumblebee.
Flight of the Bumblebee
A Pneu Poet
Bipolar, medication, Mental health, Mental illness, Schizoaffective, schizophrenia
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ASD, OCD, BP, PTSD just to name a few. Writing autistic artistry and compulsive craftiness just to share yet another view from the chosen few. Out of Sound Mind was created to find new kinds of expression mixed with old lessons. Also, if you so desire search Outofsoundmind latest single on iTunes, SoundCloud, and many more major digital music distributors world wide. View all posts by A Pneu Poet
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