[drink me]

the label is clear enough,
red triple x's on proud display
there is no other choice but to drink to advance to the next room

and in doing so, my head above the clouds is suddenly
under the table
my feet are suddenly in shoes several sizes too large
and I am swamped by the clothes that I had chosen for myself

the drink tastes like roast turkey and butter toast.
warm and familiar, reminiscent of
family gatherings, happy times.
all things i look into from outside the window,
little match girl, little muse.

the giants in the next room address me,
but they don't look down; instead, look up
and whisper that I am too tall for the room
when in reality, I feel inferior, in all aspects

the taste of warmth lingers on my lips
but it turns sour with unfamiliarity
how I wish it really was the poison i had sought after.