Under moonless, brittle skies I have slept,
longing for day, where dreams, manic and gray,
enthralled me. Landscapes of hard beauty swept
me to wonderlands, Alice called to play.
Where Cheshire cats and cold hearted queens,
jumbled me up and twisted me around;
where even the surest space in-between
the truth and the lie could never be found;
where the black and the grey looked just the same,
and white was a color no one would use;
kindness and honor were given no name;
and life and love were but a fickle ruse.
I think, perhaps, I will just stay awake.
Dreaming is too risky a chance to take.