Curiosity?  

As we sit here,
Were you to gaze transfixed
Upon me,
You will notice layers like an onion.
Eyes locked upon eyes,
You see the brownish,
Hues of mine.
Then to gaze a bit deeper,
You recognize the windows
To my soul, self and me.
Upon wiping clean these Windows,
You become slightly confused;

You witness a scene
Multiplying into itself.
A mass of what the Fuck is this.
Though you're unable to
Confidently pinpoint exactly what it is
That's so fucking off..
And slowly,
You begin making out the shape
Of a million tiny shapes.

What you're able to make out,
Is a swarm of a billion bees.
Each one with a separate brain.
Each brain carrying a single thought,
With all bees buzzing simultaneously
Nonstop with relentless unrest.
Curiously you reach through my window,
And with careful precision
You pluck one of the bees,
Avoiding the sharp end.

As you gently restrain this bee,
You make eye contact.
Peering through his windows,
And see
Like the readings that scroll across a
Wall street trading floor,
"In nasdaq today, emotional retention is up 5 points setting a record high,
While dropping 7 points setting a record low, sanity is on the verge of bankruptcy"

As you release the bee,
Before taking flight he,
Squats and plunges deep into your finger,
His stinger,
Not thinking of the repercussion of ensuing death.
The act of me lashing out.

Regardless of the smarting in your digit,
You reach for another go,
Into the messy,
Non-uniform
Array of cluster fuck,
Again avoiding the stinger..

As your eyes again make contact,
Through tiny windows,
You look on in angst as to
What may be next.

Forcing your focus,
You're hardly able to make out
A humble little house,
On a dreary and drab block,
In the colorless town of my
Subconscious reckoning;
Dust Bowl, Equilibrium.

And slowly you're guided through
The threshold of this house;
Through a bare den devoid of color,
Aside from endless shades of grey.
And, as you're ushered
Down a hallway
adorned of empty picture frames,
A melancholy washes over you.

Tink, tink, tink, tink:
The annoyance of a chain
Bouncing over and again
On the light fixture of a wobbly
Ceiling fan.
As you gaze around, and
With a start, your stomach falls
through your ass,
15 stories.
In the dark corner,
A tiny huddled mass,
Balled up tight as though
His only safety is in his arms.

With a curious apprehension,
You extend your arm and,
With that your finger..
An inch away from making contact
with a tiny shoulder,
You jump back in fright
As the child leaps to his feet,
Transformed from a sad heap.

As though straight from a
1960's, "gee golly" family sitcom,
Adorned in era clothing,
The colorless surroundings
Around this kid become invisible.
As a child no older than 8,
Clothes torn and tattered,
And dirt thick upon his face
From a lack of care,
From anybody at all who cares.

And as she stands speechless,
On the verge of crying,
Overcome with pity induced emotion
At the sad state of such a young child,
the only color witnessed
In the colorless setting,
Is that of the purest,
Crystalline azure blue,
Of a descending sea of emotion.

And suddenly,
As I feel a teardrop
Descend the curves
Of my dirty face,
A muddy trail is cut
Deep within its wake..
As she peers on,
I look up curiously from a child's
Vantage point,
At the beautiful figure
That stood before me;
Curious as to how an Angel
Had found my safe place..

With a little fright and
A little apprehension,
I scurry back to the
Safety and confines of my corner.
Fallen prone in my balled
Position of comfort.
I want her but am scared.

And, as you release that bee,
The swarm becomes scary.
Backing away slowly,
You look into my eyes which
Almost always seem filled
To the brim with pain.
And sadness,
And burden..
And you begin to understand.

Intricate B