Confession

I have a confession to make. 

You are right, You always have been.

I am an escapist, yes.

I escape to cityscapes in my head and fall out of them often,

Squinting my eyes to make the world look more romantic,

or hauntingly blunt than it really is.

I dread ordinariness,

down to my marrow,

and twirl between an intense desire for verbosity 

to an intense hate for having too much of it.

I am everything a writer is and should be.

But know this.

If there is a reason why

the twisted contours

of my mind

have grown hopeful to an idea-

of finding beauty in the omnipotence of life's banalities,

the reason is you.