"Oblivion is pretty," she sang
As she walked there.
The flowers that grew on the graveside path
Showed her the way with a drunken light.
She paused when she came to a garden by Dali
To dance with delerium and practice
Being butterflies.
She wanted to remain there endlessly
But the path's sly whisperings called
"Onward!" and she, enchanted, followed
With drowsy feet, until the pebbles underfoot
Dwindled to sparkles and then she
Walked on air. Sleepwalking now,
She followed the pearly sheen of the Milky Way
Until she slowly sank through its surface
Like Ophelia,
And there drowned.