Genesis

What if you ate a butterfly?
and wings chewed through your skin
with needles for teeth?
and the pink and blue speckles like you expected
were actually psycho-analytical
ink blots?

Gone is your genesis.

You couldn't even hold up your own head;
it fell off like a dying rose.
Now there's a pool of red juice
soaking into the black satin blanket
in which you think you live,
beating in harmony with your heart.
What if you slurped it up with a straw?
Except...
now it is in the shape of a dog.

Your genesis is gone.