Spiders from the past

From the personal journal of Diana Dandelion, 2005:

One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small,
And the ones your mother gives you don’t do anything at all;
go ask Alice, when she’s 10 feet tall.

When men on the chessboard get up and tell you where to go,
and the white queen is talking backwards, and the red queen’s on her head,
remember, what the doorman said,
keep your head
keep your head

Lyrics: White Rabbit, Jefferson Airplane

You’re so seductive, a warm silk cocoon that, strand by strand–starting at my head–envelopes me. Until I’m totally wrapped in a fuzzy, womb-like cover, head-to-toe. For a while, I’m ecstatic! Relishing the cocoon’s soft embrace.

But, then, little-by-little, I emerge from my false ecstasy and realize that the womb is encasing me–with no way out! But…by then, it’s too late. All I can do is lie in wait for the sting I know will come–and the burn of the poison running through my veins, my body, my soul–and the pit of despair with unclimbable walls as I realize, yet again, I’ve let myself be seduced by a force that’s only end–for me–is an inescapable spiral of pain of the body, mind and spirit.

Yet, still, she calls to me with her siren’s voice that entices me saying, “It’s okay, think of my warm, silky embrace. Think of the wonderful ecstasy of forgetfulness…

You’re smart enough to toy with the poison, play the game and escape, unscathed.”

And, while I know that it’s a lie–I can’t–I never have been able to play this game and escape unscathed.

Even so, I find myself thinking–maybe, this time, just maybe, next time…

And on it goes.