Monday, December 27, 2010

Like a Clownfish

It has become an imperative elixir. An often used apparatus to conciliate, that allows a cheerful bid to decamp. An effortless escape to a world, as real as I can imagine it to be, a world that I will never want to jump out of. Because that is where the heaven is, that is where the bliss is.

So I will dive into that ocean like a clownfish. I will wriggle on the tips of the anemone , and feel the warm rays that cleave through the water bed. Because that's what I want to be, today. To be small, invisible and painted bright orange.

I find a strange sense of ecstasy in such deviant fantasies. Somehow I want it to remain my ' fantasy '. What if I really were a clownfish? I guess I wouldn't know the difference then. Or maybe my dreams would change.

It's just a simple revelation, that there is always a place elsewhere, to let go, to get away. I leer at all the creations around me, that inspire to dream this written fantasy, to imagine a life that isn't mine.

This is a beautiful world. It's a beautiful dream.


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