There’s no butterfly or beating of wings
No wings in fact
Just a cycle of thoughts, worries, overimagined problems and catastrophes
A wondering of parallel infinite worlds where I’m a crystal clear sphere
smooth surface nothing adhering
Rather than this rusted brain chaos calamity mind that’s broke(n)
I tried ramming my fist through the thoughts
but they sprang out in instant reaction
and my hit landed nowhere but air and nothing and heartache
There could be an infinite ways my brain wiring could be
Some happy, some insane
right now just looped, one wire into another into another into another
Huge ball of knotted wire, different colours and end points
but I can’t work out what does what and what goes where