French Girls
I like girls with french accents.
They sound as soft as they look;
as sweet as they smell.
I could fall in love with a french girl very easily,
but I can’t draw very well.
Tyler Durdan
My LED screen screams back at me,
My friends lay their heads in places I dream to be
or so it seems.
Illusionists,
Their tricks do the trick;
Project Mayhem,
My projector screens a different flick.
Those Fight Club reruns catch up with you.
I fight myself outside of bars too.
Sometimes at dinner / after the party/ before bed
Black and blue inside my head.
Little jabs that have left bruises over time.
It’s called a changeover but I know the big twist.
With some creative freedom, I’ve made my own script.
Butterfly
Last night, in my dream, a butterfly was kind enough to float around me. I was very grateful. I lovingly invited it to join me, extending my arm so it could land on my fingers - a peace offering. But the moment it landed and began to move, I was skeeved our by it’s insect legs crawling on my hand, and I violently shook it away. I wanted to love it, but this sensation only left me with fear and disgust. It trusted me in this brief moment and I broke this trust - in a way I broke my own trust too. Butterflies don’t live very long. I didn’t want to only appreciate it from a distance, but I wanted to know it. And I wanted it to know me. And in an instant, I protected myself from what senses perceived as danger. It’s but an insect, a butterfly no less. And now for the remainder of it’s short existence, it’ll wonder ‘what did I do wrong?’
i’ve been writing some ~poetry~ and I’m gonna post some entries from time to time to ensure that if I lose my book or whatever that they’re in the cloud for safe keeping
