hair's grown greasy as my face is oiled up
from the pillow i adored
as i fell into my dreams and escaped reality
i slipped into a world of running late on airplanes and losing touch with my family
for when i awoke to an empty house
and fell once again into a screen to escape reality
now, i slipped into a world of other people's problems and the guilt buried at the bottom of mine
the clicking of the ceiling fan and the mumbled words of a singer faded away
into a place that i'm so far divorced from
why would i want to sit with myself when i can read of him or her?
why would i want to find love for myself when i can read hundreds of love stories that i can never attain?
why stay here when i can live in a place that never ends?
i can dip my toes into a perfectly encapsulated series of moments
live in a perpetual happy ending
who wouldn't want to live like that?
