just as i seem to be wriggling free of pins
and needles of past sleeping
dreams, aslumber for the pursuit
of that perfect tomorrow...
i am thrust into the realm of
the white rabbit.
moonlight is eclipsed;
i sit watching the slow wane
of silver to sickle width.
why make it through one dream
just to witness the death of another?
why awaken breathless with hope
that it was all just a mistake of
when, in reality, if
you can call it that
to watch from the other side of the glass
to hear the words which were tossed at you
in what you thought was base thoughtlessness
are in fact the words of hurt and confusion
it is worse than
with no worms to ride
at the end of dreams
and no blue eyes to wake up to
when sunlit morn arrives