And I Lost My Land
Yeah I dreamt of you last night
And darling I’m worried
At 5:00 am you broke my heart
And I wanted to break your neck
But I was above, a numb butterfly,
Flapping in the hopes I could start a hurricane across the world,
Swoop up the red barn, horse named Sally, and egg breakfast that was never ours but should have been.
You turned to a drop of rain and burned through my virgin wing.
I fell without grace:
A screaming butterfly,
A fucking angry butterfly.
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I’m a butterfly and I suck the Pepsi in through my proboscis. You’re a drop of rain but somehow you’re drinking Pepsi too.
Now my wings scrape against the laptop trackpad, scrolling through the “indie drama fucking kill me romance” section of Netflix.
I click on the flick entitled “I was a butterfly and you broke my heart” – sounds relatable.
Your rain drop dissolves and crystalizes
And I crush you up and put you in the spoon, heat you up and load you into the syringe and thrust the needle into my abdomen.
Head rush, body rush, why’d you do it?
You’ve turned me into the butterfly that would hold a gun to the head of a caterpillar screaming: why? WHY?