le sucre le plus doux

to feel it sweeeeeep like a flying wasp beautiful and bold hovering above my bed eyeing me thoughtfully a virtue of vibration sprinkling by gold upon my pinkened cheek promise of liberation and or exquisite pain then a downward swoop wild laughing out of almost nowhere brushing me dangerously causing a swell of squeal to

The Wasp The Rose

  The wasp penetrates and the rose too I press my face into this life and on fluttering petals they find my portal they sting and sing in glorious waves of mystery, the rose the wasp and propel a gyroscopic spin on my ribbons my universe they travel I am space and these intoxicants are journeying through