The Hive

April night-tyme And we run like muscles through the stagnant nodes of man Blood-bridges lean towards the gaping synapses to disarms the stars within us Hornet Hive-dark Severed wings in vainless beating buzz out from inferno of fangs to disarms the stars within us We should have been so much more by now Too dead inside to even know the guilt Waning Ring-deep a halo of thorns Sips now down in the sheets of sharp silver to disarm the star within us