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Chains

Burry him where he'll never be found. Locked and bound deep underground.

By Alexander McEvoyPublished about a year ago • Updated about a year ago • 1 min read
Chains
Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash

"Damn it," I muttered, shaking my head and thinking blearily of the night before. Had I slept enough? The coffee was in the other room, which meant I would have to get up if I wanted to drink it hot.

I stood, stretched with a dramatic groan, and ambled through the door in quest of caffeine. Recently I had started drinking my morning coffee out of thermos cups even at home, because my addiction to open windows meant everything was always cold.

My fingers wrapped around the mug patterned in faces of the classic and most marketable Scooby gang before I knew what they were doing. But I perceived the pattern, and that made me smile. Brought forward memories of watching cartoons with my grandma and parents as a kid...

-0-

In my head, I sprint and jape

In my head, I wear a cape

In my head, I am a boy

Overcome with brightest joy

As I hold a new favourite toy

Imagination runs away

With my mind again today

Spoken descriptions I start to say

As it carries me away

My soaring heart

Longs to play

Imagined boy I used to be

Turns around and looks at me

Saying softly

"Let go, be free,"

and holds his hand out to me.

But as I reach towards his hand

My muscles seize

Wrapped in hair-thin burning bands

Forcing me to a painful freeze

As I watch the dream fade away

Another lost again today

Try as I might, I cannot stay

As the imagined boy I used to be

-0-

... well, no sense wasting time on that. I have work to do anyway.

But still, as I look down from the endless and lightly numbing monotony of adult work, I see the mug and I smile. No reason to forget the boy I used to be, even if he could never have imagined being me.

Free VerseStream of Consciousnesssad poetrysocial commentarysurreal poetryProse

About the Creator

Alexander McEvoy

Writing has been a hobby of mine for years, so I'm just thrilled to be here! As for me, I love writing, dogs, and travel (only 1 continent left! Australia-.-)

"The man of many series" - Donna Fox

I hope you enjoy my madness

AI is not real art!

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    Written by Alexander McEvoy