I'm here. I'm there.
I see myself everywhere.
Again and again, full in all the fragments.
Never broken, not so still.
A butterfly in the caterpillar's dreams.
Stealing, running, growing lean.
Becoming all I could have been.
Whatever I touch turns to tin.
In this world of hate I believe.
In a tub I swim like a fish.
In the cupboard I breathe like the sky.
And in my hands I die like a fly.