The monster mash...

Silly silly twisty-tied-up words on their little posts -- hanging to death slowly.
Their wings get taped back, tacked to the records and spin-spin-spinning in circles...oh-so-disco.

Flash:


Wings start falling off, triangles tipping, turning, cracking. 
People dance to the broken music; robotic movements that twick-twack g-g-go in certain patterns. 


Flash:


No one notices the faerie lights go out, so everything's in complete darkness. The wings catch no light; they're on the floor by now, being trampled by the robotic movements the dancers call day-to-day activities. 


Flash:


This is the default music. 
The spinning creatures who died. Who's dying? Certain some-ones who ..who what?


Little faerie lights break; the tiny pieces of glass sliding into people's feet as they STOMP-STOMP-STOMP to the twizzling-fizzled-out music. 


Flash:


Little-little's scream startles everyone. How dare she interrupt their party! 
Her feet track bloody writing everywhere, telling a story far too cryptic for anyone to understand. 


Problem: she can't stop screaming.
Solution: shut up.
Problem: not that easy.
Solution: aw fuck. 


Grand-oldy people tap their heads side-to-side, clicking their tongues at the uncontrolled mess.
"Silly," they agree.

But through all this, did anyone watch the butterfly's wings fall to the floor, in a state of complete silence, straight through the music and stomps?
Through all this, did anyone see how the light caught the wing, singeing a small rainbow into the floorboard cracks for a complete semi-second?

I watched, because I was not dancing.
I noticed, because I was not looking.

I was not looking, yet I saw.
I see.

And everyone else?