Racks of CDs,
that turn me into the worlds greatest
air-guitar player.
Kurt Cobain’s unsmashed guitar,
and Michael J Fox’s Family Ties costume.
Loose Post-Its stuck everywhere,
Holding storylines of books I crave to write.
Millions of novels,
inside an old, dusty library,
with walls so high,
I can see God.
There’s plenty of sunshine.
Blue-orange sunsets stand out the most.
But darkness, too
Thick, hazy fog,
that guards musty,
haunted stairways.
I’m ‘just a kid’,
Looking for a place to escape,
in this cruel,
happy universe.