Butterfly, why can't I?

Hey kids,

Uncle Jimmy's here today to share some more of my prose. It wasn't always easy for me to open up like this. BLUE 45! I found myself face down in the gutter one day, a needle hanging out of my arm, my groin regions pulsing with advanced symptoms of syphylis and trouser crickets - and wiping the dirt from my red sweater vest I said, "Jimbo you can't live like this anymore! You can't hold it all in like this!." After four hours of crying into the arms of a hooker named One Tit Mary I wrote "Will there ever be a Rainbow?" That poem was about rebirth and shit. This mother fucker is about butterflies and healing:


Butterfly, why can't I?

through the sky
oh, oh so high
with your wings
and antennae things
sometimes I pull off your wing
rub it on my ding-a-ling
then I cry,
then I cry,
then I cry,
then I cry,

Butterfly, why can't I?