by Chris Butler
The great escape,
to where no one runs wild
and the mind cannot
envision what the eyes
cannot see,
is sprung from serving a life sentence
in detention,
when all of my friends are pretend
and I ally myself with animated animals
speaking with squeaky voice boxes
fluently in my native language,
to keep me awake and daydreaming.
We role play misadventures underneath a smiley faced sun with watchful, starry eyes shaded by black Ray-Bans,
until the day passes away when sun showers and Technicolor rainbows morph into afternoon moons and twinkling twilight,
when I must return to the real world.
But I can’t make myself believe in make believe.
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