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Under bedsheets like rabbits do we crawl
with innocent eyes
far away from the words and shadows
of our illuminated world.

Under bedsheets like rabbits do we escape
from the blare and blur of suburban streets.
Streets with blinding light
in which the constellations suffocate
to shine.

The infinite possibilites
of the infinite universes
of the infinite this
and the infinite that.
So much to discover
and revel in,
the moon will never set
but will hover, golden
over the ripe horizon.

Under the rabbithole of bedsheets
do we find a world where the stars smile back.
Where a curleyheaded girl soaks her tired feet
in a slender river
for even just
a few moments of beauty
and passion
in our world composed so wholly
of streetlights and shadows.
Mariel Ramirez Sep 2013
It's hard to be good at life, even if we try. Sometimes, the ladder you're standing on falls, and sometimes, you're not only fallen but broken. When you scream in pain and find you're alone. Life does that. Even if we try.

Too often people whose eyes and hearts and souls are vacant try to empty us likewise.

We look out the window to find we missed the sunset. And instead, gray skies unfold sadly, sad but screaming of coming rain.

When screaming causes you pain yet still the volume is turned up. Your shoulders keep getting bumped. When you're in a slump, you get kicks instead of a lift. And fall down Alice's rabbithole. Or not. Where you land is no wonderland.

See. Even if we try, and the only bad we do is cry, the only harm we cause is to ourselves, it seems there are more lessons for us to learn, more ways we can get burned. It seems, we haven't been thoroughly hurt.

I'm still looking for reasons; though in me is all the evidence, that the world has a grudge against humans. What is so wrong about us...?

That girl who smiles, taking the hand of the old lady beside her, they are both dying -- she, of cancer. A man with a woman with cheekbones and crudely cut hair, towing three laughing kids in a wheeled wooden cart. The young lady who only wanted to go after her dreams -- who was full of potential, is now just full of unshed tears and broken pieces, the faded light that was hope; who should have been a star, prays to burn in hell or whatever's waiting.

But I know that she is beautiful. I know that his heart is as big as the world. I know that she cares, that she dares, that she's brave.

I used to think we were made of the galaxy, but it is cold, unrelenting, and, we couldn't be farther from that. We are suffering. But our tears are diamonds, our sweat – liquid gold, our blood - something greater than the universe. And our hearts our hearts our hearts! It is the mother of everything for which there are no words.

And while I question practically everything (the beauty of life, the wisdom of kings), I have never doubted the pure wonder of the human soul. While I don't know that it gets better, I know that we deserve better. Let's make it so that prayers work again, that there are such things as friends. No more backbites or fistfights, no more rejection, insecurity, glossy eyes that hold back waterfalls. May the rainbows be hope instead of lies. And when you're down, a helping hand instead of a kick to the side. Let's do what we can, so that no one might ever again so truthfully wish their life to end. Care. Help. Love. You shouldn't wait to enter heaven if you haven't tried to bring it down to earth.
Amaranth Young Apr 2012
We were holding hands in the summer
and the street was cracked
and the clouds were being greedy
even through their kindness
and their tears turned salty on my cheeks
when I looked at him

It became too much;
he slipped down the rabbithole and faded
like eighty year old newsprint
until there wasn’t much left but the tattered shoes
I told him to replace months ago
and the echo of his last breath
on a breeze that was
staler than the bread left out on the counter
this morning

I saw the things I didn’t want to see,
the things he didn’t want me to see,
and I wished at that moment
for a gallon of bleach to pour into my head
just burn it all away

but no one can fade like he can.
Kiagen McGinnis Feb 2011
scrape me down
like ugly wallpaper in an outdated house
leave nothing but gray framework
until beginnings are easy.

make me stop
dragging my heart through a cactusfield of memories
the ****** have got this body numb
apathetic to the tearing of skin.

wake me up
from sweaty black rabbithole sleep
tumbling&trying; to grip anything real
hand hits smoke.
AJ Farruco  Jan 2019
Carousel.
AJ Farruco Jan 2019
I'm sick & tired of people/
I want the company of angels/
So I scribble over faces/
And they all think I'm crazy/
Story of my life/
This world could break anyone/
I need a brake... anyone?/
Not of the psychotic kind/

CRASH!/

Jump through a window like a flaming hoop/
A thousand dead mosquitos on the floor/
I hate the smell of elephant/
Mousehowling at a painted moon/
And even if the grass were fluorescent green/
I'd still find a rabbithole to fester in/
Rat with wings perched on alligator head/
Tripwire heartstring crocodile tears/
The fabric of time is a rag with holes in it/
I wear it like a ghost, and see things/
I shouldn't... but it's never too late/
At least that's what I say to myself every night/
Then can't wake up in the mourning/
Sleep deprivation distorts my perception/
Black, cracked mirror image staring/
Back at me.../

And what does it mean/
When our movements are out of sync?/
And what does it mean/
When our movements are out of sync?/
And what does it mean/
When our movements are out of sync?/
Imperfect loopage/
Fluid karma in my cold veins.../

Replica still there in reflection/
Soaking wet, and talking backwards/
Hardly ever straightforward/
Mostly kinda roundabout/
Something about our cell?/
I'm hella lost in translation/
But something like/
Never stop trying to detox/
And when you wanna punch a wall/
Beat dead horses to a ****** pulp./
© + ® A.J. Farruco, 28/01/2019.
Kiara McNeil  Jul 2011
Endland.
Kiara McNeil Jul 2011
I'm going down the rabbithole.
Gladly, I admit.
I've cooked up my madness,
and swallowed quite  a bit.
I can't wait to be eaten alive
and greeted by it once more.
Reality is dead.
And society is beating on my front door.
But what do I care?
I cover myself in a blanket of insanity,
from my feet to my hair.
Oh heavens, this wonderful.
I don't have to think or believe anymore.
Trust in insanity.
I swallow the key and close the door.

Welcome to the Endland.
melancholy  Aug 2020
to ashes
melancholy Aug 2020
His hands are an artist's, —

There's power in them

To sculpt

To create

To demolish, —

And she's letting him

Make her his subject.

She looks up at his face

As he molds her like clay

Whispers to him:

"I don't like you

But I love you."


His eyes are like a hurricane, —

Wild and vicious

Ravaging everything

That he **** well pleases.

He tries knocking her down, —

Tearing her apart

Stripping her bare

So she'll have to rebuild, —

But she stands still.

Back straight against the wall

She tells him,

"I don't need you

But I want you."


His mouth is like a hot knife, —

His tongue gleams like silver

Beneath the light of a pretty lie

His words, serrated

Cutting deep enough

To make even the most obscure parts bleed.

She looks on as he takes a stab

Utterly unmoved,  —

The wounds he leaves

Are never more than superficial.

She grins at him

And states:

"You are dangerous,

But you aren't frightening."


His heart is a rabbithole, —

It's a long way down that dark tunnel

But, if you're brave enough to take the tumble,

Once you finally land

You'll come face-to-face

With a mere little boy, —

Frail and trembling

Trapped for years.

Gracious and graceful,

She takes the boy's trembling hands

In her steadfast grip

And offers the truth, —

"You're a vampire, you see, —

A predator as old as time,

But once I stake you

You're done for."



His skin is like ice, —

Cold and thin

Melting away

Beneath her fingertips.

She looks at what she's done

And shakes her head

Before bursting into brilliant flame.


"You kept trying to **** me, —

And one day, you might have, —

But, love,

I am a phoenix.

I've burned and burned

A million times over

But you know

I'll always rise again."
You Made Me Go Through All These Experiences Just So I Could Write About It? (too long)
or
TISFU (that is so ****** up)
Or
Next!
Or
L’enfer c’est les autres
Or
I Hate Strangers!
Or
Street Corner Conundrum
or
Is that Approaching Drunken Psychotic ******* Yelling At Me?
Or
You say Zombie...I say Zombie Works
Or
I’m Happy **** It! 🤗
Or
You Sugared? The Peas?
Or
Does He Have Balance Problems or Has He Been Body-Snatched?
Or
Digital or Analog?
Or
Get Your **** Outta My Face
Or
A Rose By Any Other Name
Or
Extreme Peripheral
Or
Is That a Cowbell?
Or
You Said That The Lord, Jesus Christ Wants To Mug Me?
Or
Winter’s Coming
Or
Do It For Less
Or
Yes My Legs Are Great!
Or
My Friend Says That People ****!
Or
******* Rabbithole
Or
RabbitAss Hole Hole
Or
Dingbat!
Or
God the Couture Warned Me!
persephone  Mar 2018
05
persephone Mar 2018
05
i can see where this ends -
slamming doors and shouting matches
and nights spent alone
or the slow decline of a flame
love dying out to embers of resentment
on nights when i can’t be touched
without feeling ghosts in my sheets
i can see where this ends -
if you fall down deep enough
all you get is a broken arm
and dirt under your fingernails
the rabbithole doesn’t keep you warm or safe
only in the dark
staring up at a patch of sky small enough
to cover with your thumb
(your hand, on top of mine)
when was the last time i felt so helpless?
you came out of nowhere
dragged me into the light
kicking and screaming
and denying my heart
(did i need to, after all?)
to keep you away from me
to keep you from slipping off the cliff
when i was already at the bottom
without even knowing
i can see where this ends -
the cold caress of morning
between sheets and skin
coffee and tea in equal amounts
the haze of new england
or the pacific northwest
pencils and pens tapping on wood
distracted brush of lips on flyaway hair
tracing freckles like constellations
chasing the scent of leather and ink
(do i need to finish?)
do i need to tell you where we end
when we haven’t even begun
to map out the pages of each other’s skin
or thumb through the volumes of our past
stopping to pause and smile at a photograph
or a hastily scrawled note
in the margins
take a moment to wonder
if maybe this was meant to happen
(i never thought i could say it again)
if you want
i can tell you
where this begins
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2020
if a headache could be composed into
a toothpick...
           oh so much more:
          this toothpick - as a headache...
better still... a toothpick is a headache
but becomes a splinter...
                and a splinter becomes...
an irritating pain on the gums
lodged between the teeth...
                 a bothersome thread of beef...
somehow lodged under your tooth
putting pressure for what's
naturally some variation of "empty space"...
otherwise a headache
          is a toothpick is a splinter...
                 a splinder lodged just beneath
the skin... on the tip of your index finger...
and such a beautiful day...
some per se... but i'm far from a per se:
suitcase and postcard ready...
to "move on" to some "elsewhere"...
     a george oppen poem...
                 a kathleen fraser poem...
an alice oswald poem...
             an anne carson poem -
notably the poem book of isaiah, part i:
right now... in my garden...
a cricket is playing a transcedence
of violin -
          because when the cricket plays...
there's always a transcendence of violin...
right now... a violin is like the sound
of glass shattering...
        if i were to shave my beard
and wait a day for some stubble
and... rub-rub... no 'uckin' music!
       shard - shrapnel and sharpening sand!
     - so there's the ol' jeremy
   and i know that there's a frog in the garden...
although no gurgling burps
             of gargantua...
            it's that comparison of
an anne carson poem: isaiah and birdsongs...

it's the 14 watermelons being
eaten in a desert...
that leads you to the proof
of an oasis of soul...
                  some unbelievable wow
was supposed to ensue!
but no... this was never going to be...
a herbie hancock moment
when listening to him -
revised... in st. petersburg (russia, proper)
one of those... glad awful tidings
of youth, hormones...
         the opposite ***...
   and... a 2007 "hiatus" from the TODAY
fudge and custard pie of
propping-up! the big GHANDA...

         surds! stealth letters in english!
                       in the glee of.. pulling out...
a magic tentacle:                         ęgliš...

i'm (also) so far behind...
keeping up with european football season
as i am behind: i.e. never having
hexed myself to use up my time
on 4chan forums...

       a litany of googlewhacks:
4chan killjoy blunders - 5,670 results...
suptg iop - 841 results
    tamara chergoleishvili giga bokeria - 1,870 results

i'm currently reading two books...
charles dickens' the pickwick papers
and milan kundera's "essay"...

      capsid ******* clicket - 6,870 results
having to compound...
    limboseeker - 262 results...
       limboseeker south multiple - 9 results
limboseeker south multiple naproxenlobster - 8 results
modlishka korczyk - 4 results...
           no sooner...
modlishka korczyk per - 2 results...

                 the old thrill is gone... though...
modlishka korczyk peq - 1 result...
a googlewhack...

   but... "once upon a time"
there was no ******* worth of a disclaimer
"as if" you were making an error....

no... "verbatim" -
/ it looks like there aren't any great matches
for your search / tip try using words that might
appear on the page that you’re looking for. /
for example, 'cake recipes' instead
                 of 'how to make a cake'.
/ need help? /t ake a look at other tips
                                 for searching on google./


such that the soul fizzles away
and there's only a wording vanue:
some variation of a rabbithole
and a cul de sac (rabbitcole cul de sac - 8 results)...
then onto syllables:

       lo red шake khan (9 results) -
"oops": шake чa (╩) another googlewhack...
шake чa (╩)...
                                 ghip╩╢ⰍⰍⰍ (3 results)...

ghip systems networking...
            and... the
global health interprofessional education ...
                                   ghipecp.org

how's this...
                                 faceⰪ - 1 result...
"try" my alt. searches
ǥuđán
אֵת                                      mr. panasonic....  

ⰑⰎ soyur - 1 result...
              best end of a fickle welcome
that's a blister that's a tomorrow.

— The End —