Balkansky

THE HIVE

Lights are flashing, elves are singing,

Pure of matters putrid vile.

How much weight of what is clinging

Can be dumped in sacred Nile?

Grinding teeth and surfing mirrors,

Drones are swarming crystal hive,

When you strive among its pillars

Does it make you feel alive?

Skins are shedding, whites are blacking,

Ever-shifting, growing pile.

Hollow shells of those are lacking

Squirm and spitting crimson bile.

Suns won’t set for purpose dealers,

Curtain calls for final dive.

When you sleep among your killers