Poetry by JC Snyder

[i am the harbinger,
the bell that tolls]

whispers from the basement dirt of a deep dark
hole, you stand on the edge and in an illusion
of free will, you jump in feet first, then frantic
free falling out of control past
dark walls with eyes reminding constantly
you did this, you did this,
you, Alice, had a choice,

[bells swing their heavy bodies, laughing
from their deep dark depths]