Resting is never easy, with the stirring of empty thoughts, like clanging little bells and spilling mold from teapots. I sit and drink of folly and greet my guests there, for I’ll never get to resting if I don’t have my fair share. Though the poison may eat me up, I tie wonderland’s ribbon round my neck, and jump the spout into the drink to take my given due. Again I kiss the teacup’s lip and mumble “I love you."