I am lying on the ground, far below you.
I may have jumped. Or perhaps I fell.
Technicalities mean nothing but, if we must,
Alice positively threw herself down that rabbit hole.
I am drowned in darkness, and I will not be found.
I smile into the obscurity and tears collect in my ears.
The insects begin to explore my corpse,
but they are confronted with disappointment.
Sadness seeps through my skin,
and the bitter taste of my flesh repels the spiders.
Melancholy manifests in my muscle,
and the maggots retreat back to base camp.
The lice taste my despair,
and decide not to devour me.
The scorpions are equally repulsed,
as the ants make nests in my matted hair.
The feeling of inadequacy overwhelms me:
I am not good enough to be eaten.
But I am peaceful, and the choir of bats
slowly pushes me towards resignation.
Treacle Heart 