i enter the atmosphere of a radiant, enchanted world

where the air is condensed with adjectives and nouns,

along with stories drenched in emotion.

where forests envy the sun for soaring high,

and detest the birds for nesting in their arms.

where the only transportation are the dinosaurs,

reincarnated by the giggling witches.

where newspaper ads are from the vampires


where the skeletons pick flowers and joke

about how they dance and play the trombone,

but “don’t have the guts” to play in a live orchestra.

where my family are the troubled ghosts

who greet me with the newest songs

and praise for the tune of my acoustic guitar.

where the odyssey forever stands true

(at least, to the those living in olympus).

where friends text using scrabble letters,

and actual birds live tweet their favorite shows.

where the village people spawn magic

endlessly from their fingertips,

and sprout bouquets for the living

(plus a few for those rotting with the earth).

where contagious weapons break skin,

paint the roads with roses,

and make a literal explosive war.

where my steel knees scurry too hastily and scrape

as im trying to retreat to this world

because im anxious enough to start an earthquake

and my brain is telling me to cut its stem.

where i write this poem till the end of time

about this world that doesn’t exist.


but when my arteries are clogged with sorrow

and my blood clots form spontaneous anxiety,


this is the only world i have to escape to.

a world

where i only exist within its crumbling walls

when words leak from my bones.

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