The White Rabbit in Plum Juice

I don't love you anymore.
No, its not hate either.
I just don't know me anymore.

Fake sprained ankles have morphed
like tree-eating-slug-things blossom
into bloodsucking butterflies,
into early afternoon's glossy curls
perfectly permed and perfumed.

Long days turn into longer nights
because
             I don't love you anymore.

The star-ed and blackened sky
not night but light-bulb sunrises
PAINted on white white white walls
with the magentaredpink pallet of lipsticks
named after a $14 dozen of roses:
      Sheba's Double Delights
      Lips-Kissed Red
      Dark Wine Maroon

A dreamlike cloud-reality recreated
with happy ending fairy tales reversed
I don't know what this is.
This prince with the mustache-and-blondebrown-shaggy-hair and open arms
holding dreams.and.happiness.and.themoon.and.....me.
but.
       I don't know me anymore.

The murder trial interrupted by
oh really?'s mhmm's and sneezes
noses dripping, like the waterfalls that run
from the heart pierced with bullets,
allergic to the the aroma of the love-and-beauty
deceptioning potions being brewed by the masked witch
running the show with her tinyrocks hammer.

The ace of hearts runs in brandishing a flaming torch
to ignite the sheepdog-haired prince and the dream,
thatisawishmyheartmadewhenitwasfastasleep,
the only time of peace that turned into feeling like
lemon juice smashed into cat scratches.
                 Maybe that is what i hate.

But that was me. I was the ace of hearts
who ran in and ruined everything, while trying to save myself.
The one whose warning signal made shards of glass
       fallllllllll
                     from
                               the
                                        sky
and invisibly shredded my world.

I _don’t _{love you} still.
No, _it’s not _{hate m}orev_er.
I _am don’t _{trying to} know me.