Saturday, May 16, 2009

the bus chronicles. pt. 1.

Slipping through red street lights
Yellow a split second ago
The bus has its own turbulence

Blending that all two familiar smell of passers by
Cologne and breath only here for the duration of the ride

I am still
Impatient and quiet
My pen is inflicted
By the rough patches of the avenue

Having foregone
The journal update
And reading of a good book
For lack of inspiration

The all too familiar smell
Of piss
Drifts by my all too high

There is no focus here
Everyone content with
A cheap ride
How dare you ask for peace
At this price?

The mountains of heads
In front of my seat
Dance with the rhythm
Of the god forsaken

While I am still
And pissed (smelling piss)
And melancholy
That these words can be fleshed no further.



Unknown said...


ty said...

this inspired me o pick up my pn and exercise my muscles...i was just on the N6 experiencing a ghetto ass ride

mmmm yea i think imma like that exercise