Alice Before the Looking-Glass

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With pretty words she

topples onto the sand,

oblivious and dreaming

nearing the twilight of her pretty existence

soon a fragile cloud

blown away like the cigarette smoke she surely is

becoming

and no one was there to see her tempted smiles

(but the smell of french vanilla won’t wake her up

she’s drifting

away)

Nonsence,

This is her mischief, this is her hiding again...again

Admit

It’s a beautiful stench

nearly as beautiful as the world

nearly as topsy turvy as you wish yourself to be

but never will become

orderly, sensible woman

hair follicles neatly kept, cold sweat in perfect drops

why are you worrying about an annoyance who dreams of cotton candy the night before

your wedding

who lies for the sake of repenting, grinning all-the-while

she is the crow’s feet you don’t have.

But with her standing there, you begin to wonder if

there is a waterfall of blood on your hands,

her hypnotic state is your downfall (you can’t have that) so please

Pull her away from the frame