i'm here but i'm not really here.
i mean, i'm physically here.
they have me,
trapped here behind this desk.
my hands are moving,
i'm tapping buttons on a keyboard,
so i must be working.
but am i really here ?
well my head's not.
i'm dreaming about getting out of this prison,
flying away down the street to my house,
to my lover,
who will be waiting there for me.
i'm thinking about voltaire and the enlightenment.
wishing i was a part of something big,
instead of living something little.
i'm wondering why i never knew about the castles
that the romans built at scarborough and filey,
when i went there so often as a child.
why didn't anyone tell me about them ?
i am anywhere but here,
in this miserable office,
with these irritating people,
and this meaningless job.
my mind has escaped.
if only my body could exit in the same way,
i could fly away....