Better now

Well,
it’s simple.
The big secret
is not meant to not
be told but no one trusts
me anymore to hold it together.
Stomachs do not knot. They just harbor
firewood that sends sparks up north toward
the heart and hearts do not flutter any more than
butterflies may flutter while they’re tying off knots on old
cocoons because they’ve just kinda been there and done that but
we all know that Metamorphosis is just a fancy word for getting evicted
and That, my friends, is exactly why I don’t know where my home is
and I keep staring up at smoke signals spelling out messages
giving me directions as if I’d actually fucking know which
way West is. You gotta tell it to me straight or right or
left. I left notes under the floorboards reminding
the roaches to watch their backs because
yes, all God’s creatures are just that.
We are Creatures of Habit & I’ve
got a long list of habitats that
I no longer inhabit where
my secrets are stashed
safely intact & once
again, I am free-
finally feeling
well again.