Light 03
Into the Rabbit Hole United States
Text
the rabbit holeyou never enter on purpose.that’s rule one.it opens on a tuesday,mid-yawn, mid-sentence,somewhere between the couchand the kitchen,and down you go.you follow it the way you followanything at 3 a.m.,chasing a truthyou already suspectyou haven’t earned.the visions come dressed as symbols.teeth falling into a sink.a hallway that keeps adding doors.your childhood dogstanding at the end of it,not coming when called.fear doesn’t shout down here.it gestures.it rearranges the furnitureof places you swore you’d forgottenand asks, politely,if anything looks familiar.and then the flood.memory with the tap broken,faces out of order,old kitchens, old voices,the uncanny flow of thingshalf-remembered and fully felt,rising past your ankles,your knees.you wanted the truth.the hole knew that.it just never promisedthe truth would want you back.so you float.you let the water carrywhat it carries.and when you wake,wherever waking is,you check your teeth,count the doors,and pretend you weren’tjust somewherethat knew youbetter than you do.
