find me on the hierarchy
between cellular and divine 

half-baked, half-complete 
half-missing what’s mine 

find me under your feet 
working my grind
 
paying dearly 
for these strange desires 

feeding material needs 
I’ve long stopped questioning 

ethics, morality, 
contradictions, and pain 

feeding material needs 
keeps me guessing 

providing the raw goods 
for lucid dreams  

find you after midnight 
stuck on the moon 

dressed as a butterfly 
colored by the world

between the lines 
in this novella of moods 

memorized, quoted, 
pirated for my tunes