A brown moth
Dives in for a landing
On a creamy white rose-petal
With the sun still blazing in a sky
He forgot, moths are only allowed to come out at night
"Whats night?"
To a moth night and day are relative
He only know that during the "day"
He wants to fly high into the great lightbulb in the clouds

Me, Im just a human not an insect
But to that imaginary moth
Who I just wrote about
I'm a god
(chuckling because the only way a writer can get "recognized" is with multiple spit-shined confessions of failure)
Not that I'm any better than a moth
If a moth trys to fly into the sun
It sends his perception of reality
Spiralling out of his control

I too might one day
Scrape the paint off of a wall
And see a bald doctor taking notes
Behind a pane of glass
As I pinch the Acrylic snowflake out of my fingernail
He'll dissapear
But from then on
The inside of my head
Will be bent
Like the spoons of a psychic

"What now captain Ahab?"

I circumsised the top off an iceberg with a hacksaw so when my ship smashed into into it I too could mourn for the frozen and crushed who never saw it


coming

LOVED THE LAST STANZA'S

Lil subtle 4 U, Liz!

yes that was part of the approach to this, to NOT just kick down the door and rush in with all guns blazing as i am metaphorically wont to do