// See, when you catch a butterfly, it doesn't try to get away like a fish, it accepts its defeat gracefully, like a queen bestowed by a crown / you go and you come back and you go again and soon your appearance and disappearance seems fiction, something I made up in my mind, some unrealistic illusory / I like when I feel pain, the one you feel in your belly, like it's a tornado within you and it's sucking you in, everything is such a rumble that you can't hear anything, it's too loud, to be audible at all, that's the kind of oxymoronical peace of distress I fancy//

-s.m.