I don’t think I’ve ever known

A life above the soil

Breathing in fresh air

Is something foreign to me

Learning to breathe in fact

Is like speaking in tongues

My lips and lungs twist

Getting in the way of

The words spilling forth

They come out as smoke

Clouding my face in perfume

Until I fall asleep standing

With a brush in hand

Painting the roses red

The surreal world of my dreams

Has more color and life in it

Than the thousand faces

That pass me daily

Serving a mad queen or king

Eating mushrooms

To make them feel big or small

All of us stuttering white rabbits

Answering the call of patrons

Who would cut off our heads

On a passing whim

In a flight of terror

For tonight’s entertainment

Over a dinner of cake and tea

I set the clock around my neck

Down in the rose garden

Climbing the hedges

Fraught with thorns

To escape the life I know

To find a world above all this

Where roses paint themselves

In a thousand different colors

Where the rain cannot

Wash away their glory

— B.

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2 thoughts on “Down the Rabbit Hole

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