bus

   
                          
   
i see the boy  
in pink sweater floating midair midsleep  
arms dangling like carrots broken in the middle  
his pink fingers curling trying to grasp  
the handrest a couple of feet away  
   
his head hits the roof  
as he crashes against the man  
with manic force of gravity  
low shrieks and howls rush
thru like surplus charge
in high voltage wires  
   
the bus topples  
all of us topple along with it  
   
our lives dreams wants plans  
dslr cameras packed bags large packs  
of condoms smuggled weed and ugly underwear  
stolen bars of soaps and towels from recent railway trips  
hindi pulp novels and russian porn laptops with unseeded  
torrents and manga incest spare nipples and diapers  
stir swerve crash hurtle  
   
blood bones teeth erode  
with every crashing node    
glass metal flesh skin fear    
mix brush cut in ways that  
keeps the entropy in  
equilibrium  
   
the sea  
bursts thru my eyes  
a nonuniform ominous black  
without stars one that stings  
   
my face burns like a magnesium sun  
its the woman slapping my face  
seated on my chest  
   
i feel my own hot bitter vomit  
filling my skull feeding the lull  
i am the boy the bus the sea  
   
the puppet the string  
the rising salt water    
prison and prisoner  
my own nightmare  
the very noose  
   
damn woman    
always makes  
me withdraw  
beforehand  
   
fuck