He resided in wonderland
where love was beautiful
passion was peaceful
and dreams were sweet -

But he took a flight
away, out of sight
and that’s where he met me .

Is there a better tradition than Halloween?
When I was a child, cloaked in the velvety darkness,
The night felt like it was crackling with electricity, possibility.
Swapping candy, riding the trailer, being out late on a school night;
I realized from a young age nothing emboldens you like friends and the nighttime.

When I was a freshman in college, I saw Rocky Horror for the first time.
"Creature of the Night" rings in my ears as I
Put on makeup,
Take a swig of *****,
Place on the final touches of my costume.

Halloween becomes a blurred vision of masks, laughter, and kisses.
Locking eyes across a room,
I am more alluring as
Daisy Buchanan
Holly Golightly
A fairy
Mary Poppins
Alice in Wonderland.
They're all cute, animated, familiar, warm.

Each day after Halloween is a sickly feeling,
nausea from overindulgence
I will always be emboldened by the night.

he's always in a hurry
terrified to die
he wants to be everywhere in the shortest amount of time
the eyes always on his watch


                       tick tack - tick tack


never sitting still
always in motion
not stopping, not breathing
his life is running out of time

As she fell down the wishing well,
A stray thought wormed right in,
“Who am I?
Am I’m Alice? The one with travelled the Looking Glass?
The one who fought the Jabberwocky?
Or perhaps the one who lost her head?
My own head feels a bit lost,
So I must be her, falling down to reality.”

Of the 364 un-birthdays, best occupied by your craziest , unthoughtful and refillable teaports, who rather like to celebrate year round with you, though uninvited, it would be wise you decline hosting the party too.

"Well, why not? What's wrong with a Thinking party everyday?" 
 
I hear you asking.  Is what they do best by default afterall -- one is naturally invited whether one likes it or not.  

My reply would be "Mad Unthinking does not a party make!"  

Unless you like going on hater shooting rampage.  Otherwise, battling the twinkle little tea trays hovering in your delusional sky is rather, shall I say, a pointless endeavor.  Far better you meditate on that.

Luckily too, the only day they wont be celebrating is that one day on your special birth date.   Since it's the single time of year you're more than likeliest the happiest by design, among friends and families!  

But why just limit it to a day in the entire calendar year?   You should "happily uncelebrate bad-everything " or "celebrate happily good-nothing" for the 364 days in your mind.  And all should be well.  

Just remember, lift the tall hat and check under the hood, you may discover mad party always get you plenty of room.   But they merely recycle as a visage.  Chances are, you'd love to gate-crash and bring your best butter and bread knife to spread it all over time.  There's no "while" as they "mean", so to speak.   Especially when you are hangry and you had "nothing" yet, taking less is far healthier than filling up a buffet of nutrionless bad food.    Like clouds in the sky, let them go.

About that Raven too.  They are just cryptic messenger going backward and forward with unintelligible riddles that will spin your too clever head to a nevar resting point.  The codename is analysis paralysis.  

Akin to a kite in the sky, you can break the thread.  

Otherwise, you may end up like Alice to steal time, beat time, pass time and may get lost in a treacle well with much surgarcoating and sentimentality. Only to wake up 2 hrs later than you should have, to reality around you.  

So let it be known, and shed light into, the unknown parts of the 364 unbirthdays.  If you manage to go out, have some social bake and cake among humans now and then, you'll soon forget to uncelebrate them and lose all the over-muchness anyway.  

That's my wish for you !

Mr White Rabbit
Take me down
To where the grass is greener
And the Queens are meaner
I'll follow you anywhere
Down that Rabbit Hole

Cerulean skirts and white lace petticoats
I pout and I cry
I sulk and I lie
Eat me, drink me
I don't know what to think
But I do think
That I pout and sulk and cry and lie
Too much

Pour me a drink
Tea in a teacup
Quibbles wrought in mercury
Perhaps not retrograde
But perhaps a renegade

I believe in fairy tales
I believe in tall tales
I believe in animal entrails
I believe, I believe, I believe
In magic and in mythology

Wonderland, oh, Wonderland
Take me to Wonderland
Let me wander through
The Land of Wonderland
Come with me
Come down the Rabbit Hole

I had a heart then,
but then the Queen drowned in a tea cup,
overflowing with complacency.
It’s delicate porcelain shape
a study in the emotionless.
A Jack of hearts slipped in,
To steal it all away.

“Oh dear, oh dear”, exclaimed the rabbit
“I’ve appeared to have lost it in this havoc!”
He searched high and low
Near and far, above and below.
It wasn’t until the very last place he looked,
That he found his poetry book.

I have a
Cheshire Cat Grin.
Just as mad
Just as eerie.

I have a Cheshire Cat Smile,
I'll coo to you in the wisps of your rage,
"Oh, but didn't you know?"
But you never knew
You never knew,
Did you?

I have a
Cheshire Cat Grin,
Because I am just as mad,
Just as eerie,
Just as innocent,
And just as deadly,
Within the words, the stories I spin,
The webs I weave.

I have a
Cheshire Cat Smile,
And, Darling Dear,
I'm Mad as a Hatter.

Did you hear?
Did you hear?
The crash and the clatter?

Did you see?
Were you there?
When all that red splattered?

I am the
Voice of the Trees at Night,
I am the
Whisper in Your Bones when Panic Takes Flight.

I am the
Cheshire Cat
And honey, look at my smile.
I am the
C
  H
     E
        S
           H
               I
                 R
                    E
(They're burning in the fire!)
                      C
                   A
                T
(What was that?)

Feel the shiver down your spine,
As the air of this toothy feline
Makes you wonder
Where does madness draw the line?

Do you want the answer?
Will you chance her?

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

Queen of hearts, atop your throne.
Who stole your tarts? You’re all alone.
No one to hurt, and no one to love.
Wherever you flirt, death will certainly come.

House of cards, but no one’s impressed.
No knights or bards, for you to distress.
You broke all those hearts, but they weren’t enough.
Now you’re breaking apart, and I’m calling your bluff.

A beautiful palace, for no one to see.
The whispers of Alice, “You’ll never be free.”
So young and so restless, alone with your head.
Alice is headless, but you’re truly dead.