at the bottom of the coffee pot
the last drops of bittersweet
are melded with those tears
but it's a silly thing, i think
at the end of the world

so descending down the pipedream
with a swirl of colourful smoke
that is trapped inside soap bubbles
formed from your cupped hands
as you blink once, twice

there's two days left

movement dangles as i tip over
holding strong and looking towards the world upside down
from monkey bars on top of the tallest building
we could find

electric cigarette smoke floats
past your ears and tickles
the last ticks of "oh no i'm late, i'm late"
down the street, way down there,
we hear someone reading Through the Looking Glass
and i think,

isn't that where we're going?