Friday 12/14/2007 12:34:00 AM

Alice wasn't listening to rabbit as she shrunk. Her clothes threatening to drown her. Alice wasn't looking when the world left her. Like a balloon giving way. It drifted. The other end of the string still tied to her wrist. A limp needle all the drugs gone from it.

It went away. And she knew that it was gone. Dead. Sold to some tomorrow she has no intention of living.

The rabbit was pouring tea for everyone. Lighting the candles on her cake. The darkness was deciding in explosions of skin. How old she was. How young she'd ever been.

There were so many people. The pandemonium of alone was almost high enough. If only she could be big again. Like she was. Instead of little like she is now.

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2021. All Rights Reserved.