Black Butterfly, her end will come, only when mine does

Writings from my journal during my last hospitalization in August '09

The black butterfly consumes me, controls me...she knows me.
She cannot  be killed with chemicals...for years we have tried yet she lives on, stronger this year, than the years before.
She loathes my happiness, despises any self control.
should  she discover a hint of either one, she gobbles them up and becomes more volatile by spitting them back out upon the world as anger, pain, sadness, hopelessness, hate, fear and paranoia.
Defeated, I recoil into myself, begging for someone to destroy her.
She is no ordinary, delicate, colorful butterfly.
Not like the beautiful ones living within children, tickling their fat,
little tummies, causing them to giggle with delight.
My butterfly  is black, wrought iron with razor sharp wings.
She cannot...will not be broken...
until...
I finally am.

Intro to Black Butterflies

From my journal while hospitalized in August '09

Black butterflies begin to stir in my belly,
they work their way up to my chest...
then my mind.
Their Razor sharp wings shred apart my insides causing everything to jumble and spin and ache.
Everything heats from the friction and begins to boil over until suddenly the explosion erupts from my brain, my belly, my chest.
Thousands of black butterflies spew from my body...from every pore...from every part of my being.
Unleashed upon it, the world gasps and is repulsed by my loyal pets.
They swarm around me for hours...days...and then return home to hide.


                                                                                       

Art work by Jasmine Becket-Griffith                                                        
"Dark Ribbon Fairy"