Alice chasing her imagination as of it was reality. A rabbit in array of suits, a caterpillar that ingest the smog of hooka, a queen obsessed with the color red. Alice is above cloud 9, and noone can get her down. She popped too many its useless to count. Noone to help, noone to ease the pain. She continues until she can't feel it. Until she can't feel the pain. Alice falls deeper into the rabbit hole, to escape from herself, to forget, to then be stuck in a bondage of chains.
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Clandestine Volume 1
PoetryA mix of short stories, and a bundle of poetry written in my hours of insomniac nights. Dark and twisted maybe even inspirational.
