The Escape

I see myself in black and white,
surrounded by a world of techni-color.
Completely detached; I’ve made some
friends upon the wall.
I spy out of the corner of my emerald
eyes and see the shade upon the land.
Can you believe I once thought of myself
as a blossom amongst the poppies?
But a lone, wandering star I am,
shooting glances and quickly turning back.
Because I know if I am to inquire, the
results will be predictable.
So I dream of hills, where the fog rolls
down and grey skies blanket the sun.
An unforgiving orb that burns like straight
everclear down the throat.
I imagine a house, miles away from a
city or a town or a club. Somewhere off the
map, where inviting arms take me in.
Attached, he says, “Are you happy now?”
Happy, that I escaped the waking.
Happy, that I escaped the same routine.
Happy, that I have curled up inside a
fantasy and made it real.
I look into the windows, like a child of
God who has been taken early, and
find a beating treasure in my chest.
“Yes,” I tell him.

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Published by

craneknewitt

I have currently been busy with life and I will be re-publishing older poems. New poems will come. I'm always under construction.

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