Consider this your fair warning.
There's no turning back now.
You're leaving your
Blanket of cleansed gospel
For the smut of vicious truth.
You won't need your own wool coat
Because out there the sun beats through.

So interlock your fingers with mine
And squeeze tight.
Stay close behind.
We haven't much time
So I'll cut to the quick.
We'll burn the midnight oil.

The sun will peek into our windows
And be surprised to find empty beds,
Walls naked, our closets stripped
Of all its threads.
We will awake in a new world.
Our own island.
This floating mass.
A jagged slab.
Where bulbs burn for us until the end.

When dawn arrives
We'll be ten drinks deep.
If we can fight off turning horizontal,
We'll explore our new home
And find similarities at every turn.

No matter how far we go
It's all a fragment of a whole.
Even if all locks are keyed
Or calloused become our feet.

No matter how far we go
There's no escaping the glow.
We'll take our seats at the throne.
Wonderland is now our home.