2.22.2020

New Skies


I am rough, broken down into the smallest parts and pieces of me, but I am free.

It’s just the bus, I tell myself, but I’m still anxious. It’s something else new, something that I’ve never done before, and so I wait with strangers and slowly climb the steps when the bus arrives. I don’t know how much the bus will cost. I don’t know if they accept credit cards or if they can handle change or what.

I ask. I purposely wait until I’m the last person to get on the bus, and then I lean down awkwardly and ask a few quiet questions. The driver doesn’t sound mad or scornful, but I still can’t help feeling like I’m being a huge imposition on him. The people around me don’t look mad, but I still feel their eyes on me, watching me as I try to find a seat without anyone else nearby. No such luck, of course.

I sit next to someone who looks near to my age and stare straight ahead. Everything’s fine. I just have to make it through this bus ride. It’ll be okay.

I can’t relax. Even knowing that my stop isn’t coming up right away, I can’t stop worrying about missing it. I can’t do anything but sit as still and quiet as possible, though. I really hope that no one talks to me.

This is fine, I remind myself. People take the bus all of the time. This is something that I’ll get used to.

Maybe I should learn how to ride a bike. Or drive a car.

There’s no one here to teach me, and I don’t have the money to buy a car, anyway. A bike should be doable, maybe. I could find a cheap one and learn on my own. It can’t be too hard. Maybe I could walk to my new job instead. That would take a lot longer, though.

For every day, that seems like a lot. That’s why I’m sitting on this bus and concentrating on not having a panic attack.

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What's the value of a life? What is worth living for? What is most important in life? In freedom?

A close and raw look at someone picking up the pieces of their life and--hopefully, slowly--putting them back together once again.

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2.15.2020

Transition

Fall, fall
All come down
Ashes now
Litter on the ground
Cry, cry
Into the night
Cold outside
The wild is dangerous
Smile, smile
Safe here for once
Warm and calm
Home for everyone

The Path


Warrior or thief
Why does everyone act
Like those are the only two choices?
Can’t I just be an explorer
One who seeks without a fight?
Discovering new people and places
Without Death marching on my heels
Looking back at the line of Bodies trailing behind me
I rather think
That way of living
Would be much too tiresome
And stink of defeat

Than You


Got to let the bad
Come back down to
Maybe change into
Something good and new
Got to let it all come out
All the hurt and hate
Got to let the whole
Place burn down to the ground
Got to let it disappear
Make something new
After everything else is gone
Best way to become
Something better than you

Good Life


Time again
Got to hope
Hold myself
Back no more
Got to take the
Time to think
Ahead
Hope that things
Turn out alright
This time
Maybe, this time
Things will be
More than just
The dregs of what
I can scrounge up
A good life
If not easy
Is that so much
To ask for, really?