As blank page stares at me
clock ticks in the rhythm of my heart beat.
Thoughts swarm like bees in a miniscule hive.
Shadows make patterns, hexagonal hive
they dance, trying to catch me
not skipping the beat.
I try to write, as my thoughts following the beat
feisty and seduced, like honey queen in her hive,
run from my pen, throwing syllables at me.
This poem will never be written: because of me, in this mindless hive, it lost its beat.