past alice

the mome raths outgrabe
so many days I spent dazed,
you actually had me razed,
erasing me, setting up on stage:
you live without malice though,
so that makes every menace okay,

like my essence wasn’t crescent,
too iridescent to display,
game, set, match; forty-love,
volleys and baselines,
encrypted conned mission,

fixed for a quick rise,
slick hi-5 and you’re done,
sly lie lines,
squeezing on waistlines,
but your mind’s on:

what’s not mine.
I descripted each layline,
built you a pyramid;
my Orion star bow shrine,
waste of my timeline,

manoeuvred roots for your music,
counterfeit and stupid,
fountains and favours,
borrowed treble clefs in your name,
silence is the price you pay.

after shave, perfume,
the smell of heart break and rage,
laugh lines as old as the stars:
our divine spark,
extinguished in a sullen ark,

another ancient adage,
finished, before given
half a chance to start,
returned from above,
examining your humanity,

your spirit jumps hurdles:
they’re trying to send you back to me;
I think my heart back to lastly:
but I don’t want any part,
of any time old allegories,

in the cold light of day,
it was just never meant to be,
your dark vibe signed me benign
where you once poured light into me,
it’s bright here, as I stand now,

at the end of this tunnel;
we’ll never make it out,
because your kernel’s all stumble.
Cut me at the pulmonary,
extraction of spirit,

I wish it was different,
your unearthly incisions,
match the lack of forgiveness,
tried my best to stick,
with rosemary supervision.

I collapsed with efficacy,
under the influence of impressionism,
a vision of how it used to be,
clueless now; we’re just a catastrophe,
not even an alchemist nor an apothecary,

could cure my mental health,
wish I could have released you
with a majestic stealth,
and sophisticated grace,
it was simply too much,

for my mind to take:
malfunctioned curiosity,
I felt the melt in my brain,
thoughts played out,
dissected in front of me:

living insane,
these shivers mean nothing now,
and nor does the blame.
I lay claim to shadows of a former you,
buried under rambling brambles;

I’m a fresh shade of pain.