Falling, falling, falling,
                                  forever
or is this
                                     G
                                   N
                                  I
                           ­     T
                              A
                          ­   O
                            L
                          F
towar­ds a shimmer in the distance
like a wind that carries a dead leaf
whispering through the chimes
that fall upon deaf ears
as if the message was sent
and it just wasn't heard

No, this is f
                     a
                       l
off                    l
    the                  i
precipice  ­           n
                               g

as I watch the sky
march round in a funeral procession
of our history

F L O A T I N G
in this disorienting gravity

S E D U C I N G
in this magnetic propinquity

T E A R I N G
in this psychosomatic schism

every storm proceeds an epoch
                                              of pleasure
as if pleasure
                    is an
Grecian artifact
                        in the backdrop of Ovid

The caterpillar
                       of Like
                       of Love
                       of Hate
cocoons into insouciant
                                      vicissitudes

            ­                           Y.
                                    A
                        ­         W                                
but refuses to fly A

In lieu of being fake, I don a glass mask.
Observed, I am seen as a brittle basket case full of sass
blinded by the rays in which we bask.
A riddle whose answer you need not ask
because I am already clasped behind your back.
That itching thought
of which is oft ignored; through a mind it may bore and crack.
If judged so, daft recognizes daft,
realizes life lays down sordid tracks.
When elegance is noticed be appreciative of the act.

Wings spread; flappable;
something else now, as a matter of fact.

Moth or butterfly?
It isn't the caterpillar that decides

There is a caterpillar inching his wee body across a leaf that fell, somewhere.

Gently existing, almost alone.

The winds could **** him.
The rain could **** him.
The dirt full of other bugs could **** him.

So many things, all around his wee little existence...
So very vulnerable, and nearly alone in a world full of life...


But that caterpillar inches his way through the leaf, eating and inching his way through his path.

Because his path will lead to a cacoon.
And a cacoon, though even more vulnerable, leads to transformation.


And when that caterpillar cracks through that cacoon, the shell that, although made him weak and easy to ****, stuck, and seemingly obsolete, it also caused him to shock the world.

He will become a butterfly.
And some will see him as unworthy, still.
Most, honestly.

But haven't you ever heard...
A butterfly can flap their fragile little, beautiful, wings and create a hurricane big enough to change thousands or millions of lives somewhere.

Setting in motion events that may not have happened if he weren't there. And in all events, something important is revealed; which ultimately makes him just as important.


So in conclusion, he may be small, weak, unappealing, vulnerable, boring, easy to ****, break, or bury...but he also has a transformation.

He is delicately dangerous, a gentle healer, and a permanent inspiration in many lives.

He was important as a caterpillar.
He is important as a butterfly.

The phone is ringing
but I don't want to get out of bed.

I'm a caterpillar stuck in a cocoon.
It's not my time to flourish -
no one else is home.

So I guess I have no choice but to be the butterfly
Then crawl back into my casing once more.

The caterpillar,
slowly eating at the steam
of the leaf..

Knowing that it will fall,
           but eating never the less.

Were an extinction level event,
               slowly eating away at
                                                     life.

And we will like the caterpillar fall...

I turn to goo
Trapped inside my mind
Powered by empty thoughts
And nonexistent pain
The sun burns a hole
Into my cage
An untold promise