ive always wanted to know why a raven is like a writing desk & why it was so important to know*

they say it was an inspiration from Poe

But in reality everything is a *theory

It is what's forbidden,
But it forbids me to disobey.
I have to watch myself fall down the rabit hole.
I have to see my ambitions right in front of me,
Before they're snatched away by a desperate beggar child.
At least they can finally get what they want,
While I'm being traumatised by what I want and could have
But now never will.

Anger is boiling, like a *** of water on the stove, and I can feel my veins get warm as you draw near. The web of lies you wove, trapped me in a world of pain and hatred, and caused me to lose that which I had always held dear.

I like to forgive, and I always try to forget, but you would be the first that I can never forgive. If I could cut you out of this world, like euthanizing a rabit dog at the vet, I would do it in a heartbeat, because you do not deserve to live.

Life is already ****** up without having someone to tear your confidence away, stripping you of any personality you spent your days creating. I can't believe I fell for your innocent, ******* ******* facade, and all the things you once did say. I let you in my life as a victim, and then I became the victim of us dating.

Whoever falls into your web next, I hope she has the brains to get out quick. I hope whoever else has the unfortune of meeting you realizes you're not really "sick", that these are words that hide the true meaning, that you are batshit ******* crazy and willing to beat the **** out of any person that looks at you wrong.  Man, I put up with that for too long.

I may have spent the last year building back everything that you took from me; but it may never be enough. I still go through every day with symptoms of PTSD; flinching when someone moves too fast, night terrors in the middle of the night, hyperventilating when I think I see you walk past, and anger that has stopped me from ever being "alright".

Maybe only time will really heal these wounds and turn off this oven of hatred. Or maybe I will live with this anger for the rest of my life, wishing I had done something to make this pain faded...

Worry eats my gut, 
The zombie stance we all assume, 
Has pulled you under,
Due to another, 
Sleep pulls from beneath,
And demands to be follwed down,
How to cure what's been revealed,
Follow the white rabit,
Enter Alice, enter dream land,
Sleepless and deranged,
I need something,
Or someone,
To reach in and pull my mind asleep, and bring peace,
The rot of worry eats what's left.

It happens and I am out of body and the theme from the
Twilight zone is on a a loop.Rod Serling mumbles something to my
Fear.
Insanity crooks a finger and beckons from behind a hooded robe.
But this is a prelude to possibilities down the rabit hole.
So once again I turn my back. Scramble up hill the skinny trail rutted in deep.

Sleep is the breadcrumb trail. That never fails to walk me out of the woods.until next episode.

Man overboard.

..Unencumbered by ego..

This world is not permanent,
as we surf through moments of human consciousness
grabbing all the available moments to form and mold into
memories and
personal expression.
Within these thoughts we are truly alive,
acending into the mystery of imagination..
As the surf is the soul within this rabit hole of style and dance,
we light each other up brighter than the shine of a sunbeams smile.
Cascading further down into the lurid waters of lust,
as we lay bathing in the chemicals that we create between us.
Demure and reserved we are, with a modest whisper of enlightenment..
Yet enduring and logical.

a rabit
that ******
in the
garden beckon
the ***
with flatulence
there still
makes ***
green though
hallowed the
leaf with
chocolate and
a grieve
to blur
**** with
farming now
a thrill

Why does one feel the need to taunt fire.
Dangle just above.
Inticing pain.
Disregarding consequence
As if bathing in such might just scorch away the sins still felt.
From the last searing moments.
Is it hope.
This irrational graspless object.
That most won't leave the house without it.
Tomorrow..
Must be the time in which truth is found.
Even if questioning existence to faceless figments is the requirement.
Over and over does the rabit hole disintegrate the mind.
Until.
The next choice is presented.

Follow the white rabit
Was a last documantry I've seen, I'm still running'bout it..