Have any of you tried typing/writing without thinking of what you are going to write about? You just let your fingers do the talking and you end up with something quite amusing and amazing at the same time?

It happens to me often.

I call it ESCAPISM

for all the idiots out there:

Escapism is mental diversion by means of entertainment or recreation as an "escape" from the perceived unpleasant aspects of daily stress.

It can also be used as a term to define the actions people take to try to help relieve feelings of depression or sadness.

IN OTHER 'SIMPLER' WORDS

The tendency to escape from daily reality or routine by indulging in daydreaming, fantasy, or entertainment.

.

Dear, dear sun,

I am pushing myself through each minute and I am getting stronger. I imagine my veins as threads of stone and my blood as the color of the sky tonight. I'm tempted to leave this nice, little girl I possess dead in my tracks. The sensation of you crawling towards me for rescue has me jumping in my shoes. "I love you." I'm sure you do. I have more control than you think. Look me straight in the eyes. The morning felt unbelievably long and I entertained it myself by sleeping through it. When my eyes finally opened, they landed on what was suppose to awake me from sleep an hour earlier. "I miss you, a lot." is what he said. I stared back at the words for almost a minute than unknowingly laughed at him as if he had been in the room with me. In truth, I suppose it did catch me off guard, but my mind has been swimming for weeks now. I was ready. I preceded in my response, which included the dead fact that I did not truly love him anymore. I have fallen. Fallen out of love, I should say. And honestly, if feels almost as delightful as falling in.

The warm sensation of being completely free is stunning. I feel like I have wanted this for so long. The entirety of it is the best part. It is not in sections, but an actual whole. My skin screams freedom. This sanity is written on my face just as clear as if it had been done with paint. I feel strong, and elite, and pure, and joyful. And absolutely none if it involves you. I figure that is the best part of it all.

The independence. The satisfaction is tugging on my soul, forcing me to smile. I love me better this way. Yes, I love me better this way. Ears are getting tired, tongues are getting stiff, and parched lips beg for water. Lips gently part as a swollen tongue darts quenching quivering lips. I can clearly taste the restlessness coarsing through my blue-blood veins.

Still, I breathe -- a whisper of consistency in this world, a force to have and hold. A hand swats my shoulder, convulsing with the laughter to a joke I have missed. The touch shocks the left of my body, feeling as if mice are what scatters lively across my ivory bones, wakening whom was idling. Idiling in a rest that eclipses a whole and different wod entirely.

Artist, dear artist, do you always fall for your masterpiece? Well something must be left behind, and naturally it'd be you, Muse.

I once could be quoted saying, "I rather to never hear, smell, taste, see nor feel ever again." The world is everything and more too me, and you my love, are the Muse that inspires me, and whom I'll leave behind for my very own masterpiece.

Deep within our shell of shells, we are all selfish.

The telephone is parallel to my left ear. Water is in the rims of my eyes, like it always is, but this time it is dry. I am tripping over my own words. Where is my head? I never trip over anything and especially never my mind. Where is my control? My mouth opens, then closes. My mouth opens, then closes. Say something! Say nothing! Say something!

"Do you remember?" I shake my head. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. My teeth grind just behind my lips. He hesitates. "Yeah, I do..."

Say something.

"When I was younger, I would change the caps around to trick people. They would pick the green marker and find a yellow, instead. I found it amusing." A chuckle floats from the reciever into my ear. Sharp inhale. "I..I am not making any sense. Lets just talk about something else." My body starts to shut down, all doors begin to lock. "No. Continue. Talk to me."

Say nothing. Say something.

"That's how I feel. Someone has taken the caps off of all my markers and exchanged the tops. I...I am..." Only you, my darling. Only you. The height of your voice is only as tall as you let it climb. "You, Erin, are everything anyone can wish too be. Untainted - stay that way." Lungs collapse, fire and sparks sodden my hollow stomach, and muscles tense in absolute pleasure.

Exhale, you make me forget to breath.

My darling sun, you're everything. And so much more.

Passionately,
Your own very silver of the moon.