The table is set with overflowing insanity,
Tea cups housing our extraneous thoughts,
Granules creating the seeds of our temptations,
Reality rushing forth from steaming teapots;
Serving our ideals upon glistening plates,
Conformity supports of a comfy armchair,
Sleepily, dreamily following our own madness,
Seeking change in our new, clean glassware.
Time freely manipulated at the Hatter’s hands,
Refracting to the will of his delirious mind,
His finely buttered watch slowing the days,
Whisperings of distractions to him consigned;
Long arms circling about an ominous face,
Looming high above to seal our fate,
Musical beating leads to a life bereft of time,
The time lord leaving us here, alone to wait.
Marching to the beat of the hare’s false drum,
Slow mental ebbing tide slides forth and spreads,
Drawn in by a vicarious promise of wine,
Cowering in dark fear of that which beheads;
Civility eclipsed by his inane meanderings,
Speaking meaning in mysterious perplexity,
Splitting hares at the drop of absurdity’s hat,
Dipping time into the cup of his convexity.
Slumbering beneath the heavy lid of adversity,
Soft snoring escaping to the cavernous void,
Content to dream frilly thoughts of happiness,
While the world around seems to be destroyed;
Telling tall tales of sweet and cloying perversions,
Answering questions with thoughtful misguided tact,
Stone by stone the towering well was being built,
Even though the foundation was cracked.
Shift once more to a new and clean setting,
Run away from what the mind’s fretting.
The clear plate on which to pile your tenets,
Overflowing past the brink of our limits.
Continue on to shift the focus of your intellect,
Live by the dreams you are contending to dissect.
What happens when you reach the beginning?
No longer will you be madly grinning.