Butterflies.

Wrote this in March, 2009.

So desperately looking for the outlet. Wishing that the illusions you master inside your mind will get annihilated and torn to pieces then drowned in the darkest place, that way you (or anyone else) can never set eyes upon them. You are wasting away in this life you’ve made for yourself. You are just a burden among the butterflies that soar through the sky. You are that single butterfly that veers from the rest, gets misguided, and is hit by a f*****g semi truck doing 80mph on the interstate in the rain. Guts spray the windshield and wings stick to the guts, and the guts get scraped off by the wipers, leaving smears of insides on the windshield. And no one will notice that you are gone. Not one of those other butterflies will realize you are dead or missing, because butterflies don’t have f*****g brains. It’s all upon instinct. Chance. Luck.

You are the taste of every lie, every rumor, all the secrets you hid in fear of the truth stabbing you in the back, all the bloodshed, all the hurtful words ever spoken about you. You are the taste of regret and hate, the disgustingness of me makes you want to puke. This place is chewing you up, then without hesitation, realizing what you are, and proceeded to spit you out inside it’s napkin; hidden inside because you are just too foul to be seen. Then the bus boy comes around to clean off the plates. He takes you out, along with all the other trash, to the dumpster. And even the flies won’t have anything to do with you.

You are the used condom, covered in dirt and semen that lies next to the yellow tube slide at the playground in the public park. Unaware children poke at you with sticks and scurry off to find their mothers, retrieving them and coming back to thrust their sticks at you once again, asking what you are. Moms become outraged and stare in disbelief. And instead of informing their children about you or just simply throwing you away, they stick up their noses in the smog filled air and drag their kids away and leave; Because you are just too lewd to even bare.

You are that dog at the pound. The one who is partially blind with a missing leg, and is as unintellectual as they come. People arrive looking to adopt and they see you: The crippled dog with 30% eyesight, defecating. Then you turn to eat your own s**t. You hear screams from these people. They’re offspring crying, and the parents shaking their heads at the pitiful thing that sits in front of them, thinking: Put that thing out of it’s misery already. It’s a pathetic excuse for a life.

You are the pain nestled inside a users body; the things that are suppressed deep within, screaming and clawing at their skin, only to be calmed by a handful of Rx Meds. You are that feeling people get in the pit of their stomach when they know something’s wrong, but they can’t quite put their finger on it. You are nothing.