My head is the rabbit hole and I follow my white rabbit down and down and down unil the path we've dug is so twisted that I can hardly remember how I got there in the first place.
Sometimes I feel like the twisted version of myself at the bottom of my rabbit hole is the real me that I am desperately trying to bury.
Then other times I worry that there is no real me at the bottom.
My struggle to move the earth around me is a pathetic attempt to hide forever.
My search is in vain.
There is nothing to become.
I already AM.

I hope this cloud of dust is thick enough.

It doesn't matter if I am down at the bottom of the pit or if I am the one digging my own grave.
I cannot spend my entire life following that rabbit down a hole.