What is Moth? [Cringey Emo Poetry]

Having no mouth, needing to scream,

Fluttering through The Woods in a waking dream,

Pursuing not just The Glory but other temptations as well,

From the fire of the Forge to the blood of the Grail.

The endless Pentimental yearning —

Wings singed, ever-burning —

Gossamer wings, slippery when wet —

Running from the bug-collector’s net

Scales shedding from Lepidopteran sails,

Feeding on Nectar, following Rose’s trails,

It’s Nyctodomy, Birdsong, and Hushery, too —

A Mare-in-the-Yew, the thing between me and…who?

Moth is A Buzzing in the Brain, A Barber’s Warning,

The sleep in your eyes as you greet the morning

It’s Christopher to Teresa, it’s Dante to Beatrice,

A fete avec Fet, a tryst with Trist

It’s being drawn to the Lantern, or to the Forge’s light,

Being swatted at by newspaper’s Edge, or emerging one Long Moon-lit Winter’s night,

It’s the beating of the Heart on a quest for The Grail,

It’s entering The Woods with no Knock — and tracing The Velvet’s trail.

It’s being pinned down by The Grail, yet still yearning toward the light.

It’s being an Edge Dyad with one’s own Wolf Divided, yet loving the fight,

It’s a Principle, it’s an Hour, it’s something between —

It’s that Ecdysiast’s Parable, heard, but not seen