A Silver metal box on
Wheels hurtling through
Time at 80mph, which is
The speed of the highway,
Not light or sound,
But contains the cold
Frigid space that is the:
Interior
Of your thoughts playing
A pornographic film.
Alone in a cigarette-holed
Seat with popcorn
And empty sample sized
Lotion bottles on the
Cum-sticky and crusty:
Floor
In the bus rumbles
Underneath your feet
As you look across the
Destruction of the Gulf
Coast. I imagine broken
Sticks and tress; concrete:
Carcasses
Strewn across the ground
In monument to the
Constant disintegration
That is the untamed
Uncontrollable force without
Static, yet with a loaded:
Presence
Of you is absent. the
Desert calls you back,
A voice saturated with
Dust and sunsets, howling
Dog sounds at cacti and
Tumbleweeds but mostly:
Sand
Wished between your
Toes on a wet Miami
Day. unrecognized vegetation
Surrounds you slick, wet and
Heavy with disappointment;
Speaking cities with the:
Homeless
Generation that we belong
To, wearing proud badges
Of poverty and happiness,
Crouching in hovels of
Apartments paying an
Eternity of rental and:
Debt
Dragoons stomping after
Monetary holdings precious
To the form of archaic
Endangered lifestyles of
The public mass rising:
Up
To the north eastern towns
Where destin(y)ation awaits
In the form of tall
Buildings and stone walkways.
Feet pounding in tattered shoes
Falling from your feet:
Always
Ensconced in the scope
Of each other. No matter
The distance we are all
Intertwined in the same
Journey.
Note: Image Taken From: freelancer_marc’s flickr account
