Latching onto the scent of plastic daffodils like mindless children clinging onto their mother’s chest.
The honey bee lays confused on the petals of man made bouquets. Usually, the roses are revered as harlots as everyone picks them and daisies reproduce like mad rabbits in the spring afternoon.
The honey bee lays confused as to why these flora aren’t putting out.
Maybe they’ve had their names slandered by the rumor mill – pollen floating in the wind landing in human sinuses causing 37 accidents a week.
Pollen, a gossiper, loves spreading tails.
A summer’s wind elbowed the honey bee in the face, landing in artificial sweetener left on the patio of lazy homo sapien diabetics.
Like a rebellious teenager snorting cocaine for the first time, the honey bee buried itself in white grained texture.
The honey bee, selfish, hides the new found addiction from its colony.
Even the Queen Bee’s pheromone induced one way relationship could never snap the honey bee out of this daze.
There, the honey bee went on and on, visiting its sweet mistress until the honey bee grew sick and stuck out from its mind controlled brethren.
The Queen Bee cast the traitor out for going against its sworn undying loyalty, as if the Queen hadn’t laid with hundreds of its cousins the same evening.
In a blurry midnight walk, the honey bee found his one true love again and proceeded to make sweet love to the packets of artificial sweetener in the dark.
Like a terrible joke, the diabetic humans actually left the salt packets out this time.
Like a terrible pun, the honey bee buried itself in lines.