poetry

I have a pain in my stomach like a silent butterfly
it flaps and flaps to its' own musical tone

                  GOD i HATE the butterfly
it reeks of jealousy and mistaste
hidden in my memory
this butterfly it has little horns
                          JOLTING
holes against my insides leaving marks inside my brain
it's a silent emotional thing
no one sees anything but the physical-
                       me doubling over in mysterious pain

rub a dub dub three men in a tub
went searching for some blankets
they grabbed a yellow sub
started the newly wrought engine
CRANK IT
they said to the bright aqua ocean
scared of treacherous devotion
and they sang their song to the sky

sad eyes
dripping down
my lies
shrinking down
all that can be found within me
gone

brown eyes
with black irises
and the means to do you harm
black walls
and the ink to
covertly strip the plaster away

sad eyes
with the tears of trees
lifting up to conquer again
and we'll rise again
together as one
the martyr on the stone slab
the flower in the garden
as delicate as each other
insanely bound within one another

my summer was spent
                                    in a primeval cave
lock and key away from sunlight
with a drop or two of brine for comfort

my summer was spent in servitude
to a dark ugly daemon alive in
                                                my head
who kept me from anything new
to be done

maybe a clap of sunshine
once or twice appeared beyond my head
i was afraid to touch it
maybe it would touch back

maybe a sparkle might've appeared
if I hadn't stomped it into the dust
i was afraid to touch it
maybe it would touch back

my summer was spent in
                                     emotional misery
because I could not get past the bars
                                          holding me in
thank god for protective services, eh?

deathless and breathing
lying on the bed
mindless and screaming
crying inside my head
not to be known unknown understood
hidden in the dark grey hood of unconciousness

hair spreading crawling towards a broken pillow
pulling moving insanely far away from here
why can't i go far away
from here

writing hidden in the mind's eye
a sixth sense that can't answer why
insanity is a religion for the mind
and the oppression has me bound
i can't worship as i like
i can't please as i choose
and the pain in my head from hitting the bed
rattles around with a sickening sound
crying becomes an activity for the soul
to heal to help to hinder
to love and instigate in nefarious plots

fingers growing lengthen
nails scratching curling under
ripped patterns in the bedsheets
little lines crawling away from me
why can't i go far away
from here

His kiss was a moonlit butterfly,
And i ran into the night,
Too scared to be frightened,
Too petrified to be worried,
About misplacing my foot in the dark.

His kiss was a windswept feather,
But I didn't want to be hurt anymore,
So I went far away,
Trembling, and hid away from what,
A kiss could mean to me now.

He didn't know what was wrong.