It’s what childhood nightmares are made of.

A subway ride, a short walk to the cubicle.

Daydreams of freedom to live as you choose.
Take a walk in the park, cup of coffee in a cardboard cup.

Phone calls, emails and meetings to improve your mindset and to slowly destroy your soul.

Constructive criticism and pats on the back, you need to be stoic not so emotive.

Still you remember your childhood dreams.
Driving to a cafe somewhere, your love by your side. A walk, a story written and then a drive home.

Shaken, stirred and shocked, sent back to reality, the childhood nightmares are real.

You cherish your individuality, yet you sometimes forget just how that is defined. An identity, once held so dear, lost in a gaseous sphere spinning around and around.

Where no sounds are heard and cries are silenced.

You wear a straight jacket for the sake of fashion and you think about the fresh autumn air. The aroma of the fallen leaves and her scent on your shirt.

You struggle and you find yourself in a cubicle, 9 hours a day, doing time for the mistakes you have made.

Running on ice, falling slowly towards the ground. You can never catch up, can never feel at ease.

So you find yourself doing penance for the decisions you made, the roads you chose not to take.

“It’s all right, it’s all right.” You tell yourself but the shaking beneath your skin calls you a liar and you know there is some truth to that.

The shaking, the sitting and the tiers of tires around your gut, remind you of time lost which can never be found.

Still you close your eyes…
Hold my hand, let’s walk through the park. On this warm autumn day. Take a look around, listen to the birds and climb upon the trees. Shake off the shaking, face them and look them in the eye and say, “I’m free.”