alice in wonderland
Her mind trickled, into bridges and faraway places called no man’s land, fallen into a nirvana neverland, for her mind couldn’t stay awake, so she succeed into the tomorrows. sleep her revolving door, a never-ending chase of a bunny rabbit that chimes she is late, the red queen who yells off with her, she loses her head, every time she is grappling with the time, she can´t buy back. Her name is Alice. Her last wonderland, sometimes we trickle too deep in the mattress and sink into cotton filled dreams and the hallucinations feel real. This is her Story. It was a heavy drunken summer sunshine, that filtered the forest of Hildridge, Maine The clouds a puffy white, that had the color of cocaine. The grass was a soft a moss The willows trees danced to the whisper of the winds, Giggling girls dressed in pretty purples, luxury lilacs and widows white crafted from the fabric of lace and chiffon, hairs done up in cute curls and flowers entangled in braids and aristocratic styles. The violins hummed to the quiet, and there was Alice, she odd and estranged, everyone assumed she was bored with reality and she needed to grow up.
She had fallen asleep during her lessons and they even named her sleeping beauty because of how much she slept during the day, always well rested and daintily innocent and gorgeous. She would wake, and people would ask where she would go. She would mumble wonderland, everyone would laugh at the juxtaposition she was in, her muscles move so lackadaisically from her sleep, and the way she grappled with the world around her, her body moved like a balance beam, bowing into the person face as she laughed and giggled into the mouths of fools and her body spasm into a jolt of happiness, so it would seem to be. She would hallucinate herself in a world, where Cheshire cats existed, and her only friends were named Tweedled-dee and Dum; red queens were judge jury and justice and caterpillars smoke hookah and flowers sing where hats were mad, and rabbits carried watches and said they saying all things she deemed to be true, I am late, I am late, for Alice was always two seconds behind, catching up to the endless game of time, which faulted her existence. When she would wake, she would yell about a queen who deemed her head too fit for her throne, Sometimes, it was like—it was her body crystallized where she laid. Sometimes, she remind of us of Snow White, the way she lay still and sometimes we would catch her not speaking or moving, it was like she was frozen in time. But this was Alice, our Alice forever in Wonderland.