03-24-2018, 12:49 AM
The seat of my soul lies dead on the floor
of a bus, its blood streaming past the driver's seat
and out the door. My body is the metal bars
that block the drooping heads of sleepers
from the windows, my mind each empty seat --
The journey's over. All other selves have left. I can't catch up.
of a bus, its blood streaming past the driver's seat
and out the door. My body is the metal bars
that block the drooping heads of sleepers
from the windows, my mind each empty seat --
The journey's over. All other selves have left. I can't catch up.