moths && butterflies [ poetry ]

[ overgrown abulia ]

i think i knew it was over when
my words
my bones
all stopped following my brain

the black tar that spilled from the walls
trailed around my hands
dripped down to my feet of ice
encased my face with its sticky fingers

i didnt question it.
i allowed for my wind-shattered limbs
to sprawl themselves over the mattress
growing with burnt dust

i didnt pay attention to the screams
the howls in the wind
the pleads that danced
amongst the raspberry walls

even when it gripped onto my wrist
artificial nails running across my marred skin
even when it mixed it metallic tears
into my streams of blood

i did not care.

i did not listen.

the false cosmogyral angel
perched upon my shoulder
grabbing onto my oiled strands of hair
pushing me left right, up down

guided me to the locked room
guided me to the closed cabinet
guided me to the mold-bearing closet
guided me to the hidden shelf

i cared.

i listened.

the paper-crafted sins
burning into my flesh
crumbling in my hands
corroding my vision

pieces of ash pouring into my eyes
forbidden kerosene crawling down my forearms

warm hands covering my eye sockets
escorting me down the velvety red carpet

and whilst i sit
perched upon that golden throne
that melts slowly
i do not ponder.

i do not listen.

i do not care.

because i did not want to listen to the foolish white shadow trailing behind me.

i chose not to.

the gold leaf paper
begins to slip off from the shadow
resting against my blackened shoulder

the white hot one on my heels
drowning in the coal tar
blasphemous black asteroids
spilling in my mouth

and then i realize.

i am the fool, and i was the chess piece.