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
exclaiming “HELP! THE MORTICIAN STOLE MY FANGS!”
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.
where i only exist within its crumbling walls
when words leak from my bones.