As blood dripped all the way down we watched dead bodies unfold and then erupt.
We created the problem by killing the first set
of bees which then led to an influx of hundreds
because they smelled death. A feathered fear
smothered in translucent wings, dried glue.
Wounded by the nest caked in urine. Peeling
from a dried puddle in the palm. Bleeder of Arms.
As blood dripped all the way down we watched
dead bodies unfold and then erupt. Mangled
midsections grew into bee-bee guns and fired.
Bee bodies juxtaposed and joined forces with Wasp the Soul Wanter.
His mutant moon glow eyeholes and rank middles rose up.
Lucid unrelenting pain proponent, we were somehow winged
with gigantic stingers all over our skin. Nobody can touch us anymore.