Art & Paintings, My Poetry, Short Poems The Real Has No Eascape Posted on February 23, 2016 by A. Long reality is slippery sand in my hands eluding The real recedes every morning until I’m not sure what I live in Share this: Share on X (Opens in new window) X Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest Share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn Like Loading... Related