Escapism

It’s dejecting, but I get all my news from the

Small television at the gas pump while watching the dollar amount tick up and upward.

It never says anything that brings joy to my face,

But instead, it fills me with the urge to

Douse it with fuel and

Light it on fire.

Then I think, I’d rather not have the hassle.

The visions of fire are placating, and I stare into the vast.

The way the flames move at their hips.

The way the flames jump, flicker, and dip.

It’s mesmerizing and deeply hypnotic.

Escapism grounds me, though my therapist

Calls it detachment and dissociating.

I believe it to be alleviation, and a safe guard

For those around me.

Without it, I am the fire.