Wanderlust Poem by Hari Msonda

I like to live inside my mind.

It's vicious out here.

So I return
to the only place
that has never asked me
to become smaller.

Inside my head,
there are cathedrals built
for forgotten gods,
gardens that bloom
only after midnight,
and towers
no one was brave enough
to forbid.

No locked gates.

No warning signs.

Only invitation.

My thoughts know my name.
They greet me
like an old dealer
who already has
my favorite poison waiting.

I tell myself
I'll only stay a minute.

But my mind
has perfected temptation.

It feeds me impossible futures,
resurrects dead conversations,
lets me rehearse love
until it feels more real
than having it.

It lets me win arguments
I'll never speak aloud.

It lets me kiss ghosts
who cannot disappoint me.

Reality asks me to endure.

My imagination
only asks me
to surrender.

And that's the danger.

Because every beautiful place
can become a prison
when you're too afraid
to leave it.

Every fantasy
collects interest.

Every escape
demands another escape.

I like to live inside my mind.

But I have begun to wonder

if I've been visiting…

or if I've been living there
for so long

that the exit
has forgotten my name.