When life got elongated.
When mind and pencil merge.
The way to escape the chaotic
reality came to life.

One can dive in infinite pages.
Sitting in the nowhere
and being throughout.
Will ignorance tear the sheets apart?
Or will the paper maintain wisdom?

One can sink in profound varnish.
Smearing with bright polish
and splashing with colourless.
Will the uncreative wash the ink out?
Or will the canvas keep living?

One can get lost in solid people.
Carefully disrupting the rock
and rearranging it.
Will the minerals crumble to the uncultured?
Or will the stone take a new shape?

One can doze off in melodious harmony.
Old-fashioned elegant singing
and heated satanic screaming.
Will the hypercritical turn the volume down?
Or will the tracks keep playing?

One can fall in mysterious pixels.
Befriending cheerful vivents
and ending obscure vivents.
Will the maturity sign up for a game over?
Or will infantilism use another life?

Escapism is temporary.
The escape itself is eternal.
Fakeness isn't so fake.
Unrealness isn't so unreal.

Existence seekers want to break it.
Happiness seekers want to live it.
Authors want to amplify it.