There is a darkness in this play
Words and rhythm
Lead me down the wrong rabbit hole
Wounderland has scars I don’t remember
Alice doesn’t look quite right anymore
None of this world smells familiar
Pluck out my eyes rather than sully childhood’s memory
Nonsense seemed much funnier as a youngling
The need for sense and meaning burrow into my self
Slipping slick tendrils around my brain stem
I dance to their logical beats of
Meaning and direction
Purpose finds a perch on my shoulder as we walk
Slowly back through the looking glass
Too certain too look behind
I slip into the warm embrace of the
Madd Hatter’s 9-5 logic
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