and the sap that i write now could not be as delicious as the honey that i crave

theres a buzzing in my head- and it sounds like bees, but there are barely any left, so it cant be that- but it persists nonetheless. and then i look to my left and i see the new addition to my wall and i think that it might just be that picture that hangs in plain view; the one of the species that will soon no longer inhabit our suffering plain. i wonder if you could possibly know how deathly allergic i am to that breed of insect, and how ironic it is that you gave me this as a gift, as sick as i get from the kiss of a bee, nothing terrifies me more than the meaningful kiss from you- as nothing in this world would be more stingingly sweet or potentially fatal.