Posted in life, Poetry

Other Than Here.

Maybe I shouldn’t read

right now,

but books are one of the only escapes

I have –

Hiatus from the blue shadows

of life’s ups and downs.

They’re the thing

that allow me to lose

all awareness of the world

outside my mind

if only for just

a moment.

The universe inside

a home away [from home].

Books are my

down by the oceanfront,

watching the waves

carry my thoughts away;

Justification for the tears

I cry for the world

but don’t want

them to see.

They are the passport

to the places

I can’t freely travel.

Books help

feed the wanton need

to be someplace

other than

here.