Poetry · Writing

Butterflies

Rolling in the deep

bottom of the pit it rumbles

to the rim. Filling to the top,

fleeing from the heat. Steam

erupts from the mouth,

flying away into the crystal

light orbing around. Erosion

criples the tongue, whispering

to the belly of the beast.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s