They’re beetles slithering in the dark.
Spreading like tumors in the thick, rich
Tub of sweet intoxication called
The mind.
If only they knew.

Ignore the itching in the pit of your
Chest.
You don’t need it-
We supply it for you
In, out, in - - unknown
We’ve got something else to keep you
Alive

It burns the skin,
Tiny butterfly’s legs skittering across
The back. Just a cast- they’re hidden
Like the candy inside of a piñata,

But bitter- like opening a present and finding
A small, measly whiff of dust
With truth unwanted etched into its core
Why solve a puzzle when it’s bound to be locked up?

Like an old armoire in the middle of the room,
Doors creaking open with effort- unused in millennia-
Or days?
---
It’s floating into the sky, carrying packages of
Hallucinations into the dazzling ocean of hope

Until the pressures of the world-
Our own little world-
Blows it up and they come
Raining down like sprinkles on the cake,

Still sugarcoated fluff
To be used in times of close-revelation,
-can’t know who knows it-
Planting seeds into the recesses of our mind,
Filling the center of the cage we call a
Chest with
Beetles crawling through the dark