The white hare smiles.
It smiles with the smile that a girl ought to smile.
The hare is fast enough to outrun it's predators,

I am not.

And even then, sometimes the fastest hare is caught.


White becomes pink
Pink becomes red


These are the colors of my brain splattered on the plastered
wall.

The hare is alive.

I am dead.

I'm a wondering man
Who doesn't know what love really means
I'm too young to be done but too old to be seen
I'm obsessed with a woman -
She loves drugs,
but she doesn't love me.
I wonder too much.
I wonder about God, the stars, and trust.
I don't know where I'm gonna go
Not enough room to roam
Hotel lights all alone
"You're addicted to your telephone."
Black out make out and repeat
All in the search for a new love..
I face defeat.
I wonder on.
I wonder on.
I wonder on.

My doctor asks me
"how are you feeling?"
From one to ten
"Are you depressed?"
"Are you happy?"
"Is this the end?"

I say
"I am not sure how I am feeling, but today the sky is a dark despondent stormy cloud gray and this could be the end or the beginning of something new."

I'm never sure how I feel anymore since I've fallen in love with you

They serve me cold liquid imitation eggs for breakfast
And my mattress is solid plastic
I am only allowed outside at certain times
There are no windows so patients cannot
escape
We're all on suicide watch
When the night gets late

The girl next to me asks me if I want a demon
To be my friend

I already have one.

And

This

is the end.

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

How we love to paint with our eyes
pictures distorted with angst reprise
judgement made by a fleeting glance
media sporned advice to make us dance

Peel back the outer layer
as blinded faith to make a prayer
steal yourself an opended view
look within with thoughts anew.