Wonderland

[poetry_zealot]

i once built my own
world: i colored the canvas
with the scent of sweet air
chasing winter;


i painted roads with 
tombstones, masquerading
as bricks, tastelessly gossiping
with an empty sky;


i fostered myths using
fingernails, endlessly
grown and discarded in
an ephemeral greenhouse;


i loved so much, hate gained
form, gently caressing the wind
in a sea of never-ending
apple trees;


i created a world
with toothpicks,
just to call it
Wonderland.