(Poetry) Butterfly Inspiration

A rhythmic enchantment begins to pulsate beneath the layer of grime
gathered over my cerebral cortex,
where misuse of synapses have died down
 from last I omitted poetry from my fingertips.

Now,
watch as the river of sludge dribbles across the porcelain page,
each word chasing after figments of butterflies,
in attempts to make sense of abused syllables and sentences.

Lacking in structure,
face,
movement,
and time.
I am creating a monster in misconducted monotone.
Grasping onto the fraying corners of overused visuals
as I attempt to stimulate a coal into the uncertainty of its nature.

Oh gleam and reflect my own unsure character,
judged by histories long forgotten ancestors.
Let loose the chiming of laughter
 that remains flapping
 on the tip
 that is my imagined butterfly wing.