when your feet feel heavy
like the are not your own
lifting your head off your arm
to see that you have 4 stops left

placing it down again
forgetting to be acceptable
you're too tired to care
your mind is already on
eggs and toast and
silence

the day is so pretty it comes through your eyelids
making it hard to concentrate and realize
that you are you
you can feel people whisper around you
are you okay
are you OKAY
are YOU OKAY
until it's become a deafening roar
and the words don't even look right on paper
O K A Y
nobody is ******* okay
everybody just deals with their ****
some better than most
and the ones that are best at hiding it
are the biggest *******

most of the time i love the bus
the mom getting on with her kids
that turn around in the seat and poke me-i don't even mind
the homeless people asking for money-well **** i've been hurting so i always give them something
the end of shift city workers falling asleep in their jackets, their eyelids going lower and lower and their hands ***** of powder, cement, drywall
waiters, waitresses always dressed their best after hours of doing what another person called upon
first year college kids talking about which boy will be at which party impervious to outcomes, doing it again and again
until they find something mutual
old women who have seen more than anyone on here combined, where you stand up and want to hug them because *******!
i hope i am that i am that old one day and i will not be nearly as nice

but then your stop comes and you get off
as anonymously as possible
and go to your "home"
and those people you saw
they will end up at their homes
and who is going to be judging who then.