cars, trees and concrete flip by
like television channels, each one forgotten
by the press of the button
or the slow closing of my eyes as i grow tired
of the still-life patterns
and the constant sounds of humans
interacting with machinery

to tell the truth, it was different before

this morning, the buildings sped past
in time with my music
and i smiled back at the bus driver
sitting down with the anticipation
of standing up again
waiting to step down into that sunshine
waiting to shield my eyes from the sky
and wrap my vision around you

and you never disappoint

this afternoon, though
i sit heavy and sinking
into blue plush, silver metal and damp dust
as i leave the sunshine behind

call me dramatic, but leaving you
feels like the real thing

i siт неre,
оn тнis old
вus seaт,
neхт то тне
dirту window,
drunк and нigн,
analyzing and тнinкing
aвouт нow мiseraвle
and fucкed up му
life is,

and тнis вus is eмpту
and sтill driving,
and soмевоdy нasn‘т такеn
тнis seaт nexт то ме,
and мayве,
iт will sтау тнат way

Pack your bags with the pieces of your broken heart
And hop the first bus outta here
Find a seat among the crowd
The tires start to roll and you sink into yourself
The night welcomes you
Only a perfectly dismal amount of light leaks from overhead
Casting strange shadows over the seats
As people attempt to read
A voice breaks into your peace
Telling stories of lost love and past lives
You find solace in the words
And comfort in the company
Relieved to give up part of your anonymity
The steady movement of the bus lulls you to sleep
And you find happiness
In transit

it's amazing,
really,
how can you fall
in love with somebody
in such a short
amount of time
and end up loving
them forever,
even though,
you know they will
never be yours and
you'll never be theirs.