I had an average day today
It was not something I thought would stay

I got my self off the boose
and with the gambling machines,  I will no longer loose

I seem to be addicted to everything
***, boose gambling those things I want to cling

I want my life back the way it used to be
I have people in my life that will not flee

Can you believe I am not talking *******
Or do you think I just want another hit.

Don't hang around just because you see
the ******* I really am, and you want to set me free.

You can't safely have a cigarette outside of the bus terminal
without a couple of folk asking for one.
You can't safely have a cigarette in general.
But, if five of them have to last you a night and a sunrise,
you don't really mind turning down a few nameless hands.
Some of the bus drivers like to talk about football, weather;
others complain about management or the patrons;
a few don't say much at all, avoiding sympathy.
They're probably the smart ones.
They don't want to learn the sad stories in between stops.
I usually like to just sit in the back and ride out the best bumps.
The handrails jiggle and crash with every pothole.
-
The men who work at the metal scrap yard
usually get on in front of Debbie's Diner on 22nd street.
Bundled up for warmth and firm of face, they only speak to each other.
Small talk about who almost missed the bus, broken crane joints,
and who moved the most barrels of copper piping fill the blocks.
They tend to pick on the guy who runs the aluminum can crusher;
big guy, they call him "Boose" and he couldn't be much older than I am.
His hands and lips are dry and cracked from exposure,
but his face still shows ember of teenage years, though jilted.
There is a bar that serves three-dollar chili across the street, spicy.
The workers go there when they miss the first bus, have a beer,
down a bowl of boiling chili, and catch the return bus in better moods.
-
The railroads on Brush College road tend to hold up traffic.
The ADM plant doesn't really mind if a few twenty-something mothers
are late to their practical nursing and phlebotomy classes,
but they voice their complaints out of a cracked window to the side
of a ten story soybean silo nonetheless; steaming ears and all.
I stare at the graffiti on the laggard train cars, each unique
in color, quality, style, and message; the industrial Louvre.
These waits sometimes last a half hour or more.
In the days before Pell grant rewards come in,
when students still feel like they're working toward tangible cash,
the seats are all packed with heavy breathers.
The air becomes thick with community college carbon coughs.

Go completely insain
Change my name
Cry a billion tears
Tell you that I'm here.
What do I have to do
To make you choose me
Over the boose.

I guess it always hard to choose
from the things that destroy you the things
That tear you apart
The the things that make you
You again

What is our goal in life
Why do we hate the ones that fall
Cause I stumble trip face plant
Life didn't come with a map

And emotions are full of cap
Follow your heart and you will win
Ha. I guess they didn't know what it's like to be me then
Because my heart protects the ones I love more than myself
I end up alone in a pile of hell
I try but I'll never be good enough.
*** I give up on love
Cause I don't know what to do
When I make a choice I always loose

Always look back.
Why did I have to act like that
My dad my mom they left
I can't blame them forever
I make my own choices
And have to face the weather

How dare all of you judge me
You have no idea what my intentions might be
You don't understand the confusion
The need to people please
You have absolutely no idea what kind of strength
It takes to be me
A hell alot of **** ups and misery.

Death has no favourites, it does not choose
If you're addicted to drugs, *** or boose
It does not matter if you're a saint or a sinner
If on earth you were a loser, or a winner

Whether you **** a million or one
Whether you are a daughter, or a son
Whether you fell into despair, or had fun
Whether you walked through life, or chose to run
It is done...

No judgment, no afterlife
Just a corpse on the ground, bringing sadness and freight
Nobody can help it, nobody can stop it
Whether you embrace it on earth, or escape it in a rocket

Those who attempt to cheat death
Whether they helped the poor, or committed theft
They all come to the same realisation
Living forever was only in their imagination

Is it pre-decided, is it fate?
People always ponder these things, when it is too late
We see it everyday, take its course all around us
from your family and friends, to the guy you saw once on the public bus

It does not discriminate, it doesn't base off character
Though there is a large difference, in those who greet it with tears or Those who do with laughter
Whether you wanted to be a superhero, billionaire or a witch
Or if you owned a Billy Mays endorsed 'Handy Switch'

There is no reaper, no cloak no scythe
Just a soul, who meets the end of their life
Try as you might
You can't keep your loved ones out of death's sight

So instead of reminiscing on the past
Realise that this soul is not the last
Instead, enjoy your life while you have it
Do what you love, don't fall into a sadness pit

Plant the seeds of the garden of your legacy
Instead of getting anxiety over the things you cannot forsee
Do something meaningful other than reading poems on a website
And make the best of life, before death takes out your light.

All the weight of the world
Falls upon the youth and words
Shattered as memories of lost
Fading like drops of rain in boose

Youngest mirrors through the streets
Hunting for sick promises of liberty
Lie upon a hunger for rumors
forgetting simple senses of humans

A time of redeem machinery
Lost throughout a thirsty misery
where nothing is real, but shared
for twisted proposits of despair

(uni-verse-lyra)