that bed isnt’ even paid for

day in and day out i run across the same faces whether it on foot , bus or train
the 1am ferry and the 5am coffee
no friendly hellos maybe a short look of familiarity on a good day not that i want to be acknowleged in fact its an odd sort of anonymity
outcasts of the same outfit where we all stand up and noone gives a shit about your name
with a good soundtrack the brain shuts it out making it not oh so noticable but for myself another sense takes over with the bassline turning everyone into a rough moring comic strip popping vocabulary ballons on top of wrinkled people
the days issues,that asshole, the landlord,cancer and every contemplation swarm
even without the visual a blindman could see it written in the march of distraught looks
then my own wondering starts takes over in gorgeous cheap coffee panic attacks
might as well be a mirror or a thousand metrocard post it notes shoved in your face with cliches’ all over in some shitty handwriting
public transportation meditation
realization in derealization set to joe strummer and an engine hum
the bubble above my own head isnt’ as bad as everyone i seem to pass
its only as dark as i allow it to be
not any harder not any less
this is just the easiest part of the day i think


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