Chocolate

Golden honey drips with the wet tongue, swollen
thick viscosity, lava like the ocean from the stings it’s sustained
seethes for an entire eon, tastes sweet honey.
In the space of a pending moment the rivulets have moved in.
The surface is augmenting to occupy and erode the stone.
The flowers are growing cold. The force that is pushing,
as their colors, their reasons, this vast swathe of various
blossoms, are shade activity from a deep point,
by shade taken away within the center everywhere.
The gold glows forever; is licking clean the rolling wheels.