How far does the Rabbit hole go?

My method is Daniel Day Lewis my direction Guillermo del Toro more Bill the Butcher in Pan’s labyrinth than the shape of water, the dirt under my fingernails have a story to tell- digging for my life’s dependency wishing for clemency from the evil deeds done, forever in a day thought I’d never see the sun, the old man and a gun came and went, now all’s left is time wasted & spent, chasing dreams out of necessity and habit, following no rules so, what’s your white rabbit? Strange occurrences and unexplainable phenomena plague the vagueness of my inquisitive gestures developed from the deepest and darkest places of my subconscious. Your mission is to balance mundane discrimination with ethereal assimilation. Logic opens the door to high-minded intuition; the metaphysical realm is just as important as the physical. So I give in to temptation and chase the rodent to its layer he dives in and I stop and stare, into the darkness of the abyss and make a wish before falling head first into this nothingness…

Awakened by the eerie silence and faint click-clack of footsteps walking towards me, I can’t see the hysterical blindness of darkness all around me, Plainly this is just an utterly terrifying and terrifically captivating blend of myth and realism, fantasy and reality, everyday-like an uncanny piece of poetry- influenced by Poe, King, Stoker, and the 2 dudes that turned into chicks that made the Matrix – My Urban Gothic style of literature is in a class of its own, in the Underworld I hold the throne, of specialized rhyming patterns and uncensored dreams the king of hearts taunted by a killer Queen- within the makings of another masterpiece - the unseen can be heard…click…….click-clack….click-clack…clack……..CLICK

I’ve been in the upside down for a while now, flashing frowns that turn into smiles from my side profile like Hitchcock, or an Orange that’s like clockwork- my work embodies the thoughts and word of past greats, to erase any mistakes would be a mistake- I take and never give in the bizzaro world in which we live, they’ll never understand how easy art can be made from the mind of a mad man, but who cares, because “we are all mad here my dear- I still shed tears over the ridiculous and just, adjust to truth and consequence, hence I feel a disturbance in the force of natures to and living, my impossible mission as taken a toll upon my soul, still watering seeds that won’t grow in a wasteland of unread poetic contraband, so now a gun in hand is better than a bird- just to be heard and let go…endlessly falling down this infinite…rabbit hole

By Lazarus DaGreat

From: United States

Instagram: Lazarusdagreat

Twitter: Lazarusdagreat