Monday, October 12, 2009

discontented me.

a shell of my former self;
that is what you see.
these empty smiles are a heavy load;
where is atlas, when need be.
my wet eyes betray me;
for their tears have sought the sea.
a perfectly displayed house of cards is your imagery;
the breath of air robbed from me,
toppled my guard all around me.
through the looking glass you stare;
so pardon me if i converse with the cheshire cat,
but me and alice don't compare.
thrice, i clicked my heels;
still before me are midgets in little green hats.
the margin between sanity and insanity;
chewed through by three blind mice.
back to the land of the living,
back to a reality of pain;
dare i confess,
fiction is best.
but as ol' bill once pondered;
"If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
If you pardon we will mend.
Else the Puck a liar call.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends."