the butterfly

[jikan myshkin]

I am reading poetry
But today my mind is too tired and too weak
I read of the song of a butterfly
that stated “you are my soul, a butterfly of a dream”
I wish that it was I that uttered these words to you
as opposed to my subconscious idly filling my head
with words like this
sure it sounds poetic, and maybe one day will be published
despite my hatred of being published the ego dominates us all
I spoke yesterday to a french couple
and they had no prejudice in their mouths
they bought me a drink as the sun fell down
and another day I saw someone walking
their eyes met mine
but my eyes were too busy walking
and the sun fell down
and my vast bed is filled by my ego and sin
there would be no room for any other than thee
and so I grace this page
another link in the chain
that holds every poet
at hell's open gate