The Rabbit Hole


 

A flop-eared fuck of a rabbit ran on by,

tripping over me in his haste.

Never caring a wit in his bumping.

As if the air I occupied was insubstantial

and not worthy of one  of such good taste.

I hadn’t noticed the rabbit hole

 But he just dove

on in.

Fuck that rabbit. I didn’t know

who he was.

Or why he wore a tweed vest

yet his little bunny ass was left to stick

out below.

I just saw a dark hole in the earth.

with nothing but a deeper darkness

within.

Fear clutched my throat

Words choked as I tried to yell

“What the hell?”,  at him.

Gurgling.

Leaving me burgling for time

trying to figure out my

life.

All the whys and wherefore’s

and whozits.

While the background receded,

the foreground contracted.

Leaving me in the tight middleground

of discontent, what-if, and

disillusionment.

I hugged myself tight, but it wasn’t cold,

that was just my soul

falling to pieces

as I tried to hold my self together

while I flaked away.

Go Rabbit, go!

You have the right of it.

You know what time it is; always.

You know.

So  go down that Rabbit hole

because you’re a fucking rabbit

and you know what to expect.

I wish I could go

but

I just fucking won’t fit.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

3 thoughts on “The Rabbit Hole”

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