Honey
Lying on a cold floor, staring at an aseptic ceiling, surrounded by the disorder of a messy room: this is the state of mind Blossom Aloe channels in their latest single. It is the paralysis that follows loss, when the silence left behind threatens to suffocate. “Honey” captures this moment with startling clarity. Its lyrics are spare yet piercing, unfolding like an inner monologue that refuses to hide. The song becomes a mirror of self-doubt and fractured intimacy, exposing the difficulty of navigating affection when it is tangled with pain. When Blossom Aloe asks, “Am I crazy enough to be your friend?”, the question lingers with an honesty that is both fragile and unsettling. It reflects the weight of toxic patterns and the impossibility of clean choices when love and hurt coexist. Musically, “Honey” carries the unvarnished spirit of ’90s rock, enriched through the collaboration with Josh Vargas and visual artist Jamie McDonald. The visuals intensify the unease, layering imagery as raw as the song’s confessions. Whether lying in a bedroom, stretched on the grass, distracted at work, or scribbling in a diary, the listener recognises the same quiet turbulence. In the end, “Honey” turns vulnerability into a shared language, one that resonates far beyond the walls of any single room.