I'm very happy with this one. Tear it down, guys !

The Cries Of Those Who Stay

A lamp lights the room
where an insomniac’s
veiny eyes fight the rays
that ricochet on the walls
and on each plastic surface.
Around the bulb, two butterflies
dance, like lovers trying to
retain the most memories they can
before parting to the unknown.
In the unknown, lost spirits
search for familiarity,
like blindfolded kids trying
to pin the tail of the donkey.

Meanwhile, the insomniac inspects
the butterflies closer, trying to guess
what brought those creatures together.
He firstly wondered if their wings
were always lifelessly brown,
as he mentally compared them
to the rainbow’d majesty
of some he had previously seen.
The shadows of their furious flaps
enveloped the room
in kaleidoscopic darkness,
as if they wanted to fill
the walls with their tense farewell,
like lovers attempt to leave
traces anywhere they wish
to remember. The insomniac’s room
is riddled in tape and photographs
faced down on the shelves. Maybe if
the traces he left behind are unseen,
what’s keeping him awake will dissipate;
maybe the butterflies will carry the weight
of his multitude of pains
on their wings when they leave.

In the unknown, lost spirits
are spinning around themselves,
in a perpetual ice dance.
There, they don’t get dizzy
from all the repetition;
all feelings are toned down
in that static in between;
the everlasting need of passing
doesn’t really matter once they’ve passed.
Lost spirits don’t feel good or bad; just okay –
an eternal middle
where everything matters and doesn’t matter

The male butterfly’s right wing hits the lamp.
As he falls, his singeing wing leaves a tiny trail of dust.
His lover’s eyes are overcasted
by the smoke of his burn.
The insomniac picks the adust
butterfly up by its wings,
as a scent of acridity
weighed upon his room. He
looks up to check
on the living butterfly,
only to see her shadow
getting smaller to her leaving.
The insomniac looks down –
tears wetting the immovable butterfly –
I’ll turn the lights out, for both of us”.

In the unknown,
the tail of the donkey is pinned on his eyes.
Everybody laughs at the donkey going blind.