bullet with butterfly wings

let’s change our dna.

create new boundaries and openings

to pull our selves out of the wreckage of creation’s slumber.

we are asleep

and do not want to be awoken

who can blame us?

sleep is the morphine we don’t pay for.

but it does cost.

mortgages and meltdowns are fleas and ticks

compared to the toll imposed by lost creativity and life breath.

seize your mutherfucking day, o great self.

reach around to the back of your mind

where you hide,

waiting for the weather to change.

grab your guns with both hands

and start shooting your way out.

we have bullets

and if that fails

we have love.