A Butterfly's Corpse

vision

she can stare at the wall until her cells escape their darkly lit doom

they squiggle infront of her dry eyelashes,

and form her childhood's lullaby and the world's secret pathways.

when she closes her eyes after looking at the wall's flaws searching for that forbidden bunny,

her brain performs a private ballet,

the one she so glady did infront infront of her father everynight.

the world's butterflies come to ashes, the spiders crawl out of her ears, make tiny webs on her eyelids and join the illicit rendition.