Letters to Alice

Dear Alice, your skin smells like the crisp aging pages of an old book,  like the years lost under my bed. Your hair flows, a lighter shade. You are still as lovely as you were.

Dear Alice, your rabbit hole has grown too small, I’m afraid; too small for your limbs to crawl out.  Daisies and marigolds grace the edges like how weeds visit graves, singing you elegies and lullabies with each passing day.

Dear Alice, no one can save you now. Save yourself.

Dear Alice, the doors are all locked and the keys hidden.  “DRINK ME”, the potion said. Yes, drink me, Alice! and did you ever pause for a flicker of hope before your closed your delicate fingers around the cold glass, that you never were to return again?

Dear Alice, you are shrinking. There are eyes, eyes, eyes everywhere. You are too small. They are watching you, sizing you up. Leave, Alice. The door is unlocked now. Be polite. Close it on your way out.

Dear Alice, run. Run and never look back. Find the Queen of Hearts and play croquet and never look back. Dance with Tweedledee and Tweedledum, and be merry and never look back. Chase the Cheshire Cat and memorize its grin and never look back. Have some tea, Alice, and take my advice: never look back.

Dear Alice, I’m sorry. There are no caterpillars smoking pipes and there are no magic mushrooms There are only girls in heels just around the corner smoking joints and waiting. Alice, Alice, why? You looked back and do you see now, Alice, that the Mad Hatter was just lonely? That he had ruin in his eyes? Do you see now that Tweedledee and Tweedledum were deceptions to pull you under? That they sung sweet songs engraved with lies? Do you see now that the cakes were stale and the potions were venom? Do you see now that the White Rabbit was no more than a fancy illusion? And so was the Cheshire Cat, Alice.

Dear Alice, paint the flowers, paint the flowers, paint the flowers. Paint them, Alice. Paint the daisies and marigolds. Paint the roses. Paint the thorns.

Dear Alice, I found you under the shade. I did not wish to wake you, but you opened your eyes. I wish you never had, for, Alice, the wonderland is gone, and the world is cruel.

Dear Alice, there is no wonderland. There is only wreckage. There is only ruin. There is only the world. There is only a wasteland.