Dead Butterflies Don’t Cure Cancer


She says she’s always two seconds away from crying,

two breaths away from screaming and
two steps away from dying.

She’s not wrong.

The chemo breaks down her body daily.
If she were to get a fever, she would be a goner.

So what do you say to the cancer girl who cut off all her hair,
because watching it fall out in clumps has started getting to her?

She told me she went to see a therapist today.
The therapist said,
“you have cancer because your sad. You have stage two lymphoma because your depressed and its starting to infect every part of your living being”.

The therapist kept a glass box of dead butterflies, she said it was “décor”.

She placed the butterflies in front of cancer girl’s face and asked,
“Do they make you sad?
…These butterflies can’t fly away from their problems.” 

She would never stop repeating the world sad.

Everything cancer girl is going through can be fixed if only these butterflies somehow resurrected and flew away.

Something cancer girl could never do,
Something the butterflies could never do.

                                                      dead butterflies don’t cure cancer. 

And cancer girl is doing alright,
she’s still alive.

She may not be a butterfly,
but she has learned to fly.


13 years


Year 1
You left in the early morning sunrise.
Coffee on your breath nicotine on your tongue.
You didn’t kiss me goodbye.

Year 2
A year passed and autumn leaves blow through town like you did on route 75.
I thought I saw your face again,
Reflected through the window of your favorite ice-cream shop.

Year 3
Feb 10th the anniversary of when you left.
Bottle of champagne to mask the sting.
A girl’s head lays on my thighs, I know I’m going to have to leave in the morning.

Year 4
They say time heals all wounds but last time I checked.
I’m still bleeding from the inside and its bubbling out of my mouth.
You always said my words weren’t as pretty as others girls.

Year 5
I called in sick today,  last night.
Your buddy got drunk and crashed on my bathroom floor.
Between throwing up and sobbing he says its time he visits you.

Year 6
I’m dating new people, ones who won’t leave me like you.
And I know that shitty to say but it’s true.
Her name is Summer and she will never be as good as you.

Year 7
Breakups are hard is that why you left like a coward.
Summer packed up her things from my apartment this week.
Guess she knew I would never get over you.

Year 8
I want to start a family, it’s horrible I know.
But I’m nearing my 30s regretfully so.
Who says I can’t do it on my own?

Year 9
Your favorite color has always been green.
Green like the apple that we used to pick from trees.
Grass is green. I wonder if any grew over your grave.

Year 10
Me and that buddy who got shitfaced on my floor,
Have come to the agreement that we will be more.
He says he doesn’t want to replace you but its been 10 long years.

Year 11
He proposing to me under moonlight.
It’s nothing compared to the measures you went to.
But what me and him have isn’t love so I guess it will do.

Year 12
We had a child, a baby boy.
We brought him to your grave.
He is named after you my dear.

Year 13
It’s been a 13 years since that day a month since I thought about you.
But a blue bird flew by my window.
And I remembered that day, the day you left for work, sped down the highway and died.

13 years.
13 long years.
I think I’m ready to let your memory fly away.

– Atlas



Everyday we abstain from our morals

Credulous souls trapped in blighted shells
Controlled by men enshrouded behind masks
Led by their need to obfuscate our lives
Repudiate the blame nothing is gained
I’m bored in deep tedium by their performance
or lack there of
No one feels remorse
Caught in an endless cycle of lachrymose
Time is running out the door
We have a plethora of people with no meaning
No means to make it out alive
to make it to the end
and try as they might
They’re still controlled by those men
Men who hide behind their haughty masks.