her eyes burst open
two dark holes in the wings of a dying butterfly
saturated with jungle greens and a chemical orange
there's poison inside
with those dirty blond eyelashes that look like stitches when she's downcast
she's falling so fast
through black lacquer I can see her nails are fractured
she's coming off in pieces and falling apart

every time it rains, a little more goes down the drain
she goes out at night just to decay
she can't get away
she's writhing beneath the moon - her lips like crushed flowers
they're staining the sheets
they're falling into that toxic cavity of her insides
a hollow accordion leading to endless sewers
as she drags another breath into her coal black lungs
the jury's been hung

there's a needle in her veins
and blood in the syringe
even she doesn't know if she's oozing it out
or forcing it in
she says it hurts so beautiful when she feeds
she's got the world in an I.V.
liquefied T.V.

she's left her clothes in the basement
and her soul in the bathtub
she's trying to get them clean
she can't even scream
only a machine comes out of her throat
it won't let her choke

she's filled herself up with so much metal
as if the rings in the piercings would hold her together
she's lost count of the holes, she's a Hong Kong beach
she's got everyone digging in her, she's got industry feeding to her
every time a wave crashes on her shore, I can see it
a new spasm of strychnine from out those eyes
her pupils shoot wide, like a bullet to her mind
her lashes always fluttering, convulsing
I can hear it in her sighs:
she's the song of dying butterflies