I have fallen down
the rabbit hole.
Lost who I am in
INFP alphabet soup, wish
upon Gemini that I’ll find
my way to Ravenclaw.
But as furry foot of luck
hops up and down of reach,
I am left wondering who
the cleaver was for.
In this food chain I have
four decades to climb, first I learn
the sizzle of rock bottom as
branded prey. Sit and riddle
for 8 hours of the day, pray
that when I led soul to slaughter
block, I did not become both
butcher and brittle breaking
Bit by bit I remember being the most
myself in a town with no history
or future to my name. No bigger smile
than when the rest of me blended into
the Cheshire light. Feast my eyes
on dazzling new sights, at night
I cocoon myself in glittering lucid lines
or in a mad hatter moment, find a new
best friend for the night.
Leave it all behind, a much better
time than that familiar 4.45pm
grind, painting white roses
red without truly knowing why.
(It needs to get done,
and his pay grade is too high.)
In this teetering house of cards,
I am a diamond three. Too afraid
to bet on borrowed time
for a different, unpredictable
We’re all mad here.
I’m mad. You’re mad.
Swallow & smile.