amylou
The sweat drips down my neck and I feel the intensity of his glare. I can't tell if he believes the bull that I sling at him or if he can see right through my facade. Either way I'm still alive.
Cells of the honey comb holding a sweet nectar out to me and I steal it away. One thousand of you buzzing round my head like the voices of my past as I walk away with your treasure, your livelihood.