If you are easily offended,
enter at your own risk.
If you're looking for a deeper meaning,
don't fall into the rabbit hole.
There is no Alice here,
no childhood metaphor.
In fact, it's eighteen and up.
Show your I.D. at the door.
This is my happy place
The Wonderland inside my head
Where the tea parties are twisted,
and the guests are all dead.
Yes, there are prostitutes
wearing only bunny ears,
but they are never late,
because we purge them far too much,
to be able to menstrate.
Their tongues are quite magical
in that they've disappeared,
because talking isn't practical
when you're on you're back in tears.
I'm afraid the work is tireless.
In fact, they never sleep,
but what had you expected
to find down here, so deep?
I imagine everyone above
assumes that the irony
of longing here for love
is completely lost on me,
but in the end at least
I'll be in good company
eternally with maggots
who've been waiting for a feast.
You look a little nervous,
don't you think that you deserve this
Paradise of vice?
Come now, sit down for a drink,
the shows about to start.
Just relax, try not to think
Of the blackness in my heart.
YOU ARE READING
Thresheld
PoetryMy life is a series of thresholds that I overcome through poetry. Love, loss, pain, regret, humor, irony, word play, and even sarcasm are as much apart of my life as they are central to my poems here. I am Thresheld. UPDATE: It's been quite a few ye...
