Even the Sun darkens
With sorrow
And hides under her fluffy, white covers
From time to time.

Breathe, calm down, sit, what happened?
Your eyes are twitching,
Their color, it's switching.
Fear, joy, surprise?
Tell me, what is your demise?

The rays enveloped my eyes,
I drifted down, down into
That tunnel. Gold sparkles and
Poison silver in the air.
Are there goblins waiting, doting on
The scraps of my batted eyelashes?

The monsters, though,
They're bumpy and glow.
Green smiles beckoned and flirted,
Giggled and grinned,
Eyes winked and cheeks pinked.
Spiky hearts of jelly dominated the city.

Offered and given
Blue-brown daises and frogs, small kingdoms and bogs,
Rotted maps, never-ending shoulder taps,
Starched butterflies and broken cats,
Grass blades that cut clouds and dirt mounds,
Drowned fish with no fins, humans without sins.

Stricken with panic when
Asked for by King Gink,
My hand were misplaced.
My fingers desperate, grasping, crying,
For anything'd be better
That meeting the devil.

King Gink bid his men to **** the Cat. "Pick off all the ants, and
Feed them treats, bits of paper and sweetmeats.
If they succeed, I will take Alice as queen."
But the ants were too fat, too satisfied, and died.

Triumphant and vengeful, the Cat kidnapped me Without panting or pause,
Cat zipped off his skin, revealing
A mask remarkably like yours.
A devilish grin and a snickering sneer,
it was you, it was you!

Stop! Let me go! I swear, I swear,
I swear the umbrellas are birds, and that red burns!
Don't sit on that chair,
A porcupine left his spine there!
It's not as it seems, I'm not who I was.
I'm melting, I'm melting….

Breathe, calm down, Alice, you're safe now.
Mr. King Gink is in jail,
The cat put to sleep.
Not one more frightening thing.
Now, lay still, this won't sting.

Center pressure on the tip
Of the glassed pleasure,
Release a million particles,
Watch them rest on the air.
Thousands of master dancers twirling, spinning,
Sashaying their paths to refuge.
Inhale, exhale.
The atoms entice, capture.
Pleasuring senses with alluring influences.

Just like a ballerina, trapezed,
Carefully and gracefully
Leaning her swan-like neck
Away from her poor partner,
Afflicted by the contrast of halitosis.
Another focus of pressure:
The last of inconveniences amended.

I know all this can be redeemed
Like smoothing out all the wrinkles in the trees.
Tangled roots untangling themselves
Simply for the sake of satisfying a salvation of souls.

But the roots will never leave the earth.
As much as I beg them to
REACH out to the sky
like their brother branches do.

The grooves in the bark refuse, too.
Too deep are they set in their ways,
Too reliant are they on their habits.
Too stiff. Too rigid.

Sad, cowardly roots, can you not for one moment transcend your assignments?
Are you so afraid to run that you crawl?
I'm trying to save you. I'm trying.
I'm trying.

But the soil is so damp with ignorance.
Deaf eyes
Blind hands hesitate before every procession.
Cripples who could fly if they but tried.

The bark remaining puckered,
The roots remaining shy.
Until one thing will succeed:
The Tree.

Black shawls over glass
To prevent staring eyes
From the hatred from inside.
Masks glued, taped, stapled, nailed on the faces.
“Is it true,
Self-mutilation prevents isolation?”

Why must there be pain?
Why must there be pain?

In foggy Tupperware, tinted pink,
Some firm rose jello. She did think
It spoke oddly, like a jack-in-the-box.
Walks, talks, mocks, shocks, paradox-in-the-box,
But no socks.
The jello wasn’t jello.
Jello breaks no hearts.
“He wasn’t the fellow.”

He was mundane,
It was quite in vain.

Lost in clouds of thoughts,
He saw faces in blurs, in purples and slurs.
Hiding in needles and giggles,
His heart is escaping.
He knows well bacteria multiply.
[Quite an education, for your information.]
His infection, anti-biotic resistant.
Willing, the suicide persisted.

He’s stuck in the chain.
“God, he’s in pain!”

So many broken, so many shattered,
Tucking pieces behind painted faces.
Cotton candy-covered black clouds hound
The carnival where everyone’s a clown.
Clown ashes, dolls, and masks scattered,
Behold a grand masquerade.
No kisses for Phantom,
He cut his lips on the glass.
It wasn’t random.

God, I’m insane!
I am sane.

No one informed me,
During the days of loneliness and insecurity,
Of, the sun.
Of, the one.
Of, God’s true existence,
His brave persistence.

They failed to mention,
During the days of apprehension,
The possibility of the opportunity
Of safety, of solace,
Of rescue, of refuge.

Such days those were.
Blind, deaf, dumb, bound, tasteless.
Flat, dull, plastic, damp, soggy.
Days of no living.
The avoidance of death with
Mere existence.

Simple
And
Un
Interesting.
Painful
But
Un
Feeli­ng.

Oh, how I miss those days.
That misery, that idiocy, that confusion.
Oh, or rather, how they must miss me.

Wipe off the ooze, the ***** of the blues.
Put on your shoes,
Or not,
You are free to choose
To answer your cues,
You've nothing to lose.