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Array
(
[sid] => 114624
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The secret life of Walter Mitty
[time] => 2006-02-11 01:48:51
[hometext] => basically, I write
[bodytext] => Reality is just another word For boredom left unaltered Sometimes trapped inside my head Is the perfect place to be. Somethings that some might dread, I've imagined just for me. Boredom comes most easily Almost more easily than reading, And I am just not satisfied With the life I am leading. I invite you inside my head, You may see what you see, I must confess i really dread That anyone know me. For months at a time I am A hero, injured, but revered, I took a bullet for a friend Sam, A task that most have feared. But in reality, i check the clock, It is only two in the afternoon And my teacher lectures on Bangkok I wish class would end soon. But I don't mind, I just escape, Back to my fantasy world. I add detail, I drape Flair, the story unfurled. For months at a time maybe more, As a silent writer, only to myself The words take shape that i store, And i am never done, simply place them on a mental shelf. Another time, I am a secret agent, Undercover for the CIA I pretend that I have been sent To a mission far away. But one thing not many get Is that these are not one time things. That each day I add more to the set Of the play my imagination brings. My dreams can never be as good As the ones I created before bed, I guess that maybe they should, But I can't mold the dreams in my head. Reality is just another word For boredom left unaltered. And I rarely leave it alone I guess that says that really, I really should have known, Reality isn't real to me. Reality is just another word For where I seldom go, Reality is just another word For boredom left unaltered. [comments] => 5 [counter] => 3606 [topic] => 43 [informant] => aplsdka [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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