The last butterfly

Deep down inside I'm a suffering poet. 

Killed little by little by beauty and tormented by passion.

I can't and don't want to get close to it, 

but I want to be inside of it. 

It's like the very last butterfly, 

you can't touch it or attack it
but you couldn't ever let it out of your sight.  

I think that the suffering is my creative engine, 

my molten core of ever gyrating fission and fusion. 

That which drives me, my nuclear reactor, my silver locomotion.

That which I kills me I need to survive.

Heroin heartache. 

I'm a divine pain addict.