butter.
When you have butterflies in your stomach, do you laugh to let them all out? Do you eat to push them deep in? Do you sing to calm them down low?
Do you pray so they hear your say? Do you smack them with all your might? Do you stroll so they would be tall? Do you blame them for being lame?
The reticence of my imaginary bloat,
you gory plentiful thingamajig,
I’ll slap you now with my knife and spread you over my
bread.
i prefer to eat peanuts. let them metamorphose. when i drop them, they become peanut butterflies.
peanut butterflies sauce and brownies, should i go or should i stay with that clanking of the door right behind me? security’s turning off lights and i am alone, how cold is it outside, o should i go or should i stay?