Speaking of Things Down the Rabbit Hole

And here we go again,
I fell down, down, down
Down into that mysterious hole.
Where I always find you waiting.
Waiting to take my hand.
And fuck me up all over again.
Would it make you sick to your stomach
To know?
Or some sort of twisted amusement?
Everything is an illusion.
My words, coy.
My actions,
An unintentional game.
With a prize I'll never win.