The Bees of Denial

The world drones on, beyond this lacquered, amber membrane I recline within the waxen chambers— a sovereign of nectar enthroned in illusion Muffled voices leak through resin walls distorted—like speech submerged in molasses: “Gone… her mind distills itself… hallucinations… delusional constructs…” I attempt to see— but the hum begins, low as a beast dreaming in its burrow. My votaries rise, spilling gold into my gaze Sweet venom varnishes my sight— my irises throb with reverence “The hive forbids clarity, my Queen.” Runnels of spoiled ambrosia trace the slope of my cheeks— I had believed honey could only be sweet.