Humpty Dumpty and Alice.
Illustration by John Tenniel.
Yes, they come at night, those demented scenes of a life
lost amid chance, wobbly paths, ruins, and self-deceit.
I twine together the cartoons as best I can,
but the eye that sees the universe seeing me
is not for me, frail and broken thing I am.
Time embraces me in its roots like a tortured
mother and shrieks from her hole in the ground.
We dance by campfire and paint our hunt for blood
on rock walls. If only I could melt into the stone
and become one with its moist, serene face.
Best to stand with chattering tongues among the shades,
crying helplessly for a prayer to cover my nakedness.
Shards of a lost self seeking to put itself back
together again night and day, Humpty-dumpty man
in a Halloween mask, wake and smell the brew.
Time's short, the cop with his ticket book can only warn
you away from the inhuman altar. The road to paradise
is yours to find. Nightmare's but the scent of joy.
Nightmares at night are the least of it for me.
Who I can become is the real terror from which I must wake.