Poetry

Return To Wonderland

Return To Wonderland

by ~Aja Linda

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How queer, to meander from your path. A vagabond doll straying without doing her math. Cutie little beauty with her head in the sky. My, my, we can't ask why! She's so hallow due to her guilty sorrow. Do not inquire! It will truely cause her to mire.

Now when the house began to burn, Poor sweet Alys started to turn and yearn. Tiwisted and shifted, warped and scorched, meropia fallowed by mania. Death inset with inky caps laiden on fair maiden's laps. Queen Anne's Lace could never hide the trace of the taste of hast of dumped toxic waste.

So macabre she now lays, stoic - lethargic if not catatonic. Until one day she was not still - though still quite ill with a slight tendency to kill. Now white poppies and light dotties intrigue and mystique her batting eyes. Her world is gnarled, barred, and charred whilst the Cheshire is the only to lend a hand in her cryptic, gothique nonsense-land.

With mushrooms and singing blooms; shrunk rooms and head looms; Mad Hatters and nervous scatters; Loud clatters and soft matters; 'EAT ME's, 'DRINK ME's, 'Help Me's, 'Tell Me's; Hearts and Cards; Queens and Kings; Duches and Duchesses; March Hares and starch stares; Mock Turtles and painful Curdles; Rolling Heads and all the Tears shed...

Every living thing shall lay dead.

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