“I am not addicted to drugs or alcohol- I am addicted to escaping reality.”
There are days I wish I could forget
The route home, wish I could upset
The predictable order of things at a whim
(Though the chances of this occurring are dim)
There are times when I let my fantasy take flight
The little battles of everyday life I refuse to fight
And dream about driving away in my car
Way past home, to a destination far
Assume an identity completely new
Among new people who have not a clue
As to my real identity- is that too outlandish
To think it is possible? Or just plain selfish?
To run away from my family and obligations
Just like a gypsy- to an unknown destination?
Then find my soul; free from the chains
Of daily living, return as a person sane..
The fantasy is alluring, I must say
Yet I am not an escapist, I know, any day
So while a physical journey is quite out of question
I need to take a mental break from the tensions
Of daily living- so I imagine myself in another place
Footloose, unencumbered, solitary in my space
Vivid images of a sanctuary I try to conjure
To which I can retreat, a place untarnished and pure-
Alas! A minute or two at most lasts my reverie
Broken cruelly, abruptly by insipid reality…
The escape that I dream of, I realize
Will in the near future not materialize..