What’s the difference between escapism and avoidance?
“There isn’t one, they’re synonyms”
I used to think that too
Because I have been lying to myself for the past three years
“It’s just a quick break”
“I’m just winding down and then I’ll get things done”
And yet
Night after night
I find myself lying in bed at 1:30 am
Staring blankly at my phone
Watching anything I can get my hands on to escape
And scrambling the next day to get anything I avoided done
I think that I’m simply just escaping into another world
To take a break from reality
When really I’m avoiding everything that I need to get done
I’ve been lying to myself for 1128 days today
Because I cannot get myself motivated to do anything
I tell myself that I'll get it done in a minute
But I know it won't be done until weeks after it was due
I thought it was simply just escapism
But I am a devout avoidance practicer
There is a difference between escapism and avoidance
Because escapism is a temporary break to set your mind straight
And avoidance is escaping everything at any cost.

At last I was free
From under her spell
I said to myself
Climbing out of the well

But a strange feeling
Came into my head
As I mulled over the words
That I had just said

I wanted to go back
With or without the curse
Whether it was stockholm syndrome
Or something far worse

So I climbed back down
To the young witch's lair
Who despite her occupation
Was beautiful and fair

I explained my position
As she listened with surprise
Or so I thought
As I looked in her eyes

After hearing my request
To stay by her side
She seemed to break down
And nearly cried

She said she was no witch
Just a practicer of magic
But her skills were lacking
And her results quite tragic

I felt for her I did
But she was young and sly
And I could not tell
If it was the truth or a lie

In the end however
I did not really care
She was my beautiful witch
And I'd follow her anywhere

It was many winter's later
I encountered the house again

on one of my strolls
down memory lane.

It was true
what folks said.

The house had died.

It stood there
like a badly cut-out

silhouette against
a sunset

a child's eager idea
of what a house

might or
should be.

It looked now
like a house

on a movie lot
all front with no back

leaning at an odd angle
to the universe.

Oh it had stood its ground
against time

but its history
had evaporated.

It was a house
no longer constructed

of children's laughter
or a never-to-be-

...forgotten summer.

As if all the excruciating
piano practicer

hadn't tumbled out of
its front porch window

to torture a cat or
the innocent passerby.

Or where a first kiss
had been stolen

by its fairy story
white picket fence gate.

It was supposed to be
pulled down

oh years and years
ago

but

her its stood
like a grisly warning

that even
human memory

can die
in time

...in time...in time. . .

I shed a sentimental
tear( oh my my )

feeling like a two-bit
actress

in a play
she was not

the heroine
of

or like a snotty nose child
in a wonky school orchestra

waiting
all the performance

through

to hit
that tiny triangle.