a sudden burst of skleroza, i.e. a sudden burst of short-lived amnesia, primarily because:
so this night butterfly flies into my room, the window's open, the air is cool, i'm sipping my blackbeard (*** & ms. pepsi) and i've lost my trail of thought... i swear i wanted to listen to something... what was the song? so once the moth settles down on my wall... i sneak up to it... bam! the night butterfly is caught... now, try catching a butterfly with your hand... almost impossible... moths? you can catch them with your bear hands... with a clenched hand, but acting as a cave, you put your hand against your ear... that moment where the illusion of a sea in a sea-shell? it's almost like holding a pigeon flustered flapping its wings... but try catching a butterfly with your bare hands... impossible... try asking a lepidopterists, like *nabokov... i guess there's no irony between him running around with a fish-net on a stick and having produced ******... nothing ironic about it... moths you can catch with your bare hands... butterflies? no chance in hell... why? butterflies are more fragile... in comparison? moths have a meaty torso, and stronger wings; so they're basically body-builders when comapring them to butterflies... and they can withstand the impact your hand invokes, when catching one... plus, i'm not that into allowing a pregnant moth, secreting its tineola bisselliella into my bed-sheets... which are cotton: moth larvae... the kinder type of maggot; moths are the nocturnal cousins of butterflies, but are also somehow related to generic flies? fascinating...
oh, the song? enigma's song voyageur? wait... or was it beyond the invisible? clearly it's not a song that's a floor-filler in a night-club... something to listen to, catching moths, with your bare hands, and then releasing them back into the night.