You Could Go, Worm!

You could go, worm
Into the pupae
Wind yourself in
Vomited silks
Hide yourself from
The more stable ilk
To dislocate yourself within
Turn from a fattened wriggly thing
Into slender body and made up wings

Powder puff the pattern 
Onto papery canvas
Dots and dashes
Hearts and slashes:
Paint yourself a  pleaséd  pink,
Rich purples fit for Queen or King,
Bloody battlefield crimson that sings,
Papal whites and temple lights
Flutter inside that transforming tomb
Pulsating like the virgin's womb. 

You could go, worm 
Into the pupae
Instead of slithering on your middle
Eyes fixed upon multiple screens 
Distracted by mundanities.
You are Nero's white fiddle:
Played in the hands of a 
Barbarian as Rome around burns
And this world starts a viciously
Twisted turn towards the darkness
Of a renewed night.
Are you going to stall or pick up
The thread and go back in to fight?

You could be a butterfly
But choose to be a slug
You could choose to fly
In the slipstream
But choose the snake's
Deathly stalling hug!
You could be transformed
From this to that
From hiss to bat
From earthbound to heavenly
From sliding to gliding
But instead you sit within
Four walls from that all-seeing eye
Affrighted, slighted....hiding.