Poezja

Swear me, to the end
of the beginning. Of
impossible. I wanted to
talk to honeybees. Why the
queen had left the nest
for the sweet wounds?

The intruder holds the
citadel for a ransom. Innocent
storms, will not break, massive
walls of pride. I
stand in queue to fight
with my destiny. One last time.

Nobody wants to be bisexual.
The pomegranates swell.
Fantasies swim in eyes.
I rewrite the names of
colored absconders.