Drug-Free Butterfly < Chirpy Dirges

Drug-free Butterfly

Neither love nor psychiatry
got what it takes to transfigure me
into a drug-free butterfly.

If life & the pursuit of liberty
are such good shit, how come I ain't enticed
into cold turkey chrysalice?

If I made it past the switchboard,
won my minute w/ Raj Persuad,
I'd say I am more habit than man
coz I was ill-starred.

Addiction's but one player
at tapioca table o' my failures.
I've never changed for the better before.

I'm:

not old flame phoenix burned
partridge bitchtits off;
not prodigal son who returned
his Patriarch's boss;
not the artist formerly known
as Vincent Van Frog
obits tongued into a prince
of avant-garde old rot;
not the Clark Kent
who transpired scion of Krypton,
& cross-eyed can perform
his own laser eye-corrections;
not th'ugly duckling
whose dick gets worn to the bone
thru later over-exposure
as a midlife crisis swan's;
not bad egg that makes
good under yoke of kizmet,
blossoms into KFC bargain bucket innit;
not the kid who's cuffed 'n' cuffed
whilst Childline's engaged,
yet still eschews Cycle of Abuse,
Satan's baton-change.

So wherefore drug-free butterfly that hatches
en route to a dope-kickin' Damascus?
Daren't unfold a flutter I'd even hover
over first downstroke of 'u' in 'u-turn'.

There's no

re-entry to mentor here,
civic harumpher,
straight&narrocrat
whose bile is haute catarrh.
Coz we crooked men
only know the way in crooked miles,
don't deserve jeers from Jesus or Jeremiah Kyle
(or the one they call 'Jerry-Jerry').

Now, wings of new leaves,
potential papilionaceous
are natural high they push
at Narcotics Anonymous.
But chemical schlemiels relapse
coz losers can't be cured
- ain't just snapped my fingers
& been less crap before!

I'm:
not black sheep who scrubs up
Baa-barack O-baa-bama
(or even your sentimentalest sweater,
knitted by your deadest granma);
not this summer's surprise cult hit,
tho' all the critics at the preview
consensually took a kip;
not the Strangeways yo-yo
who winds up his Folsom blues,
& credits his reformation
to the kindness of screws;
not poindexter that in Freshers'
week scarce partook,
but, fast forward, 4-eyed git's
Fonzie on Facebook;
not aurum de stercore
success story l/ the fable
of the goose awaiting plucking
who lays a golden cable;
not the Chinese Rock star
who lives well past 27
- Grim Reaper Grammy
outrocks rehabby ending.

O wherefore my eclosion
into the right kind of denial, New Eden,
as a drugfree butterfly
on wings a map of 12 Steps patterns?
I'm a no-show imago, cobwebbed cocoon,
pinioned and pineyed Peter Pan
high as the Caterpillar,
incorrigibly ensconced in my immature pod
coz it might just postpone more misfortune.

SHARE SO THAT I'M FAMOUS BEFORE I'M DEAD ; -)