today was a down day

[amo_invitus]

these butterflies are prophets of disaster
like skeleton kisses
and the morning after
masked in hoods and whispers
from foe's mouths bent friendly
and weighed in the forsaken glory
of fifteen minutes

the fireflies are back
but few have survived
your homeland and heart
and they shine without true love
nor true lust
but lonesome instinct
and a vague welcoming
of all living creature's insignificance

a million insects scattered like stars
and born of them
from beauty to judged blemish
but we are all nothing more then them

a million insects dot my i's
and give audience to foreign poetry
but no solace or truth can be pulled
from spider spun tales
or mosquito lips
molded by divine's vanity
and sent to teach no lesson

if i could have one night back
to fix and further ruin
i'd take midnight's thin lips
and a race car bed
baring empty bodies
and lukewarm hope
of the pale moon and honey
we have all once tasted