I'm Not Alice

I long to cut holes in my wrist,

But those holes turn to eyes

And the eyes see into me. 

They stare back uncaring 

Surrounded by dew drops that look like stars. 


Those bright red stars that grow and grow. 

Little balls of gas exploding in space

Making my skin burn; I've never felt this in love. 

I feel a tenderness in my heart as though looking at a newborn. 


Oh, my baby’s eyes squinting 

back at me through crimson cries. 

I cradle her and “shh, shh, shh,

It’s all right, mommy’s here.”


The eyes turn black and uninterested

Floating amongst so many other eyes 

That I opened. Why can’t I see then?

I cut a new whole and it starts again. 


The stars, the baby, and the ghosts. 

I’m so utterly miserable, but these 

Holes are my attempt at escaping. 

Maybe I’ll trip in and fall down down down… 


I’ll see the white rabbit, of course. 

I’ll enter a whole new world of impossibilities

Through these holes in my arm. 

Everything is so warm 


I’m dizzy and now I know the stars aren’t real,

My baby was imagined, the eyes are lifeless

And I’m not Alice.


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