I have a bumblebee in my brain, It could well be making me insane. I feel it now, a restless sound… No one else can hear the strain. He was there right from the beginning, Buzzed me into life with honey and sting. He whispers sweetly, always singing… With him, who knows what the day may bring. As a child I felt him take my hand, Mom one side, Bee the other there. We wandered off through dreamlit land, Glowing golden infant visions everywhere. Bee in heart, I hummed off key, While others sang the practiced song. I mapped out worlds they couldn’t see, And lived where wonder tagged along.
Buzz dims with age — but never fades. Fewer words now, his silence sharp. Still around — reckless, fast, pure blaze, The party’s pulse, especially after dark.
He hummed through trauma, through silence and screams, A golden spark in the pitch black air. He danced on pills and fractured dreams... A fevered friend who didn’t care. He watched me burn the love I knew, The one who saw me, whole and true. He laughed as I withdrew and flew, Then wept when I said, “I miss you too.” He helped me build a brand new name, A mask of thorns, a borrowed shield. But underneath, he stayed the same… A buzzing wound I never healed. He buzzed through corporate battles loud, A rebel among the silk and ties. He drafted words that drew a crowd, Then stung and mocked my practiced lies. He held my hand when my child cried, And showed me how to see his spark. He said, “You’re both the same inside… Bright minds that bloom best in the dark.” He’s in the poems I never share, The ones too sharp, too raw, too real. He dares me still, strips me bare, Then asks, “How much more can you feel?” He’s still there, humming low and sly, A flicker behind my steady gaze. I adore him, though I don’t know why… He sets my soul and skin ablaze. I loathe him when he takes the wheel, When recklessness consumes my every care. He makes me glow, he makes me feel, Then leaves me gasping, stripped and bare. No one else has him — this buzzing flame, Uncaged, he hums — my chaos, my calm. He’s mine to bear, to bless, to blame… This sting that shaped the fire I am. He hums beneath my every choice, A pulse I never learned to tame. I didn’t choose him, didn’t have a voice... But without his buzz, I’m not the same. — UpsilonA
this feels like loving and fighting the same part of yourself at once… I felt that.
Phenomenal poem, loved every line.