4:46 a.m. - October 07, 2011
The bBeEtle & the Golden Butterflie
*Prose poem about hope and claiming it. Disregard literacy for the next couple of minutes. By the way the Golden Butterfly is hope in metaphor form.*

She opens her wings and I'm mesmerized. Completely dumbfounded, "how could this be?" I've been looking for her, yet I never knew she'd be this magnificent. Every piece of me is on fire, I want her now more than ever. I've always pictured her but I never knew her until today. Golden wings cover the eclipse, and suddenly there's hope back into my life.

I stare into her intently, I gather myself, I wait. She's a mystery I'm dying to get lost in. She's my dinner, she's my whore.

And here, I'll eat her.
And here, I'll break her.
And here, I'll take her all apart.
In here, I'll bleed her.

There's a reason, life hasn't been around. I've got the sun hidden in a ball of shit you call moon. Daily you sleep underneath. Then comes this strange disaster of beauty. Flapping her big,bloated wings. I'll take everything she was and drain her into my cup. I'll get drunk off her taste alone.

I feel so broken, I feel so apart; but when I have her in my mouth I'll feel a little bit more like God. I'll only leave her golden wings intact. Her gold wings will be on my back. And then her and I will never be apart. Never be afar.