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I take a pill each morning-- "to keep the madness away," declared the doctor, her tone clinically nonchalant as she handed to me a prescription for small, white tablets that leave a bitter chalkiness in your mouth when you've left them on your tongue for too long before swallowing. But there is only so much modern-day pharmaceuticals can remedy. Sometimes, I can still hear her, you know-- sweet. lost. mad Alice scratching at the tessellated patch-work of my psyche. I can still feel her as my fingertips flit across the liquor bottle-- "Drink Me," it murmurs. Curiouser & curiouser I become with every shot. When the room starts lurching, when I am too dizzy to stand, I close my eyes only to find that the world is still spinning. Or perhaps I am just falling. Yes, D    O        W             N the rabbit hole I go. And, as I plummet, the phosphenes of colour behind my eyes transmute into the most peculiar images: a mercury-tainted top hat encompassing the harlequin countenance of a man as crazed as I; the trundling wings of a Jabberwock and the heaving snout of a Bandersnatch; a pocket watch, its face lustrous and encrusted with Jadestone-- "Time. It's time!" it chimes. "Time for what?" exclaims the girl in the periwinkle petticoat (she appears simultaneously excited and terrified by the impending chaos). "Bloodshed," reckons the squire of the pocket watch-- the March Hare, a grisly little thing in a tattered waist jacket. "Bloodshed, bloodshed, off with her head!" And that girl in periwinkle? Why that girl is me, and the Queen of Wonderland has dealt her cards-- she'd like my head (and my heart). But sweet. lost. mad Alice has a trick of   her own to deal-- a Wild Card tucked beneath her sleeve. She is capable of imagining at least six impossible things before the high is over, you know. All it takes is a simple flutter of an eyelash and then, gripped between her fingers, appears a substance foreign to Wonderland-- *** "Bottoms up-- for with this, I shan't feel a thing," she surrenders. "What?" roars the queen upon her arrival. "You will not fight? Why, you must be mad!" "Haven't you heard?" replied Alice. "All the best people are-- Cheers."
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Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 2:32 PM UTC
Requiem for Wonderland (Drink Me)
I take a pill each morning-- "to keep the madness away," declared the doctor, her tone clinically nonchalant as she handed to me a prescription for small, white tablets that leave a bitter chalkiness in your mouth when you've left them on your tongue for too long before swallowing. But there is only so much modern-day pharmaceuticals can remedy. Sometimes, I can still hear her, you know-- sweet. lost. mad Alice scratching at the tessellated patch-work of my psyche. I can still feel her as my fingertips flit across the liquor bottle-- "Drink Me," it murmurs. Curiouser & curiouser I become with every shot. When the room starts lurching, when I am too dizzy to stand, I close my eyes only to find that the world is still spinning. Or perhaps I am just falling. Yes, D    O        W             N the rabbit hole I go. And, as I plummet, the phosphenes of colour behind my eyes transmute into the most peculiar images: a mercury-tainted top hat encompassing the harlequin countenance of a man as crazed as I; the trundling wings of a Jabberwock and the heaving snout of a Bandersnatch; a pocket watch, its face lustrous and encrusted with Jadestone-- "Time. It's time!" it chimes. "Time for what?" exclaims the girl in the periwinkle petticoat (she appears simultaneously excited and terrified by the impending chaos). "Bloodshed," reckons the squire of the pocket watch-- the March Hare, a grisly little thing in a tattered waist jacket. "Bloodshed, bloodshed, off with her head!" And that girl in periwinkle? Why that girl is me, and the Queen of Wonderland has dealt her cards-- she'd like my head (and my heart). But sweet. lost. mad Alice has a trick of   her own to deal-- a Wild Card tucked beneath her sleeve. She is capable of imagining at least six impossible things before the high is over, you know. All it takes is a simple flutter of an eyelash and then, gripped between her fingers, appears a substance foreign to Wonderland-- *** "Bottoms up-- for with this, I shan't feel a thing," she surrenders. "What?" roars the queen upon her arrival. "You will not fight? Why, you must be mad!" "Haven't you heard?" replied Alice. "All the best people are-- Cheers."
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VinylPoetry
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23/F/Canada
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 2:32 PM UTC
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