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WE forget. Love's last stand laid before the gates. Where St.Peter makes friends with the forgotten. Where did I go? Nowhere I stand between closed eyes and faded hands. I know what your thinking and I know you think nothing of nowhere. Where I am I going: down forgotten rabbit holes where Alice drinks away her pain. Her wise wisdom send out souls for truth. To hold the future one must remember the now she whispers between a sip of gin and a drag of a cigarette. Between nowhere and somewhere stands the door where the moonlight keeps it's memories. It gapes open and darling I'm drowning. hold the hand you let slip but not the one in nowhere. And ask St. Peter's man for his thoughts, I hear he gives good advice.