heavy pre-dawn skies
streetlights blurring past,
fractalized through frosted windows
unyielding leather seats leaching warmth from your aching body,
chilled metal against your shoulder where you lean
instant oatmeal warm in your lap and against your hands,
one of the few breakfasts you have the energy to make in the mornings
music playing through your earbuds,
just loud enough to drown out the clamor around you
so much life,
and yet you feel none of it yourself
heavy eyes closing against fatigue,
you barely slept again last night
but you do what you need to live
so you're on the bus as always,
mundane routine finally lulling you to sleep until you wake at your stop
and begin the day again
-
Author:
Casper James (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 26th, 2021 07:30
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
Offline)
Comments1
Brings me back to my bus journey years ago. Every stop was like a roll call of people getting on, getting off, and dying in the process.
It can be a dreary routine for sure, but sometimes there's a beautiful sunrise or a quaint little scene that can break through the monotony. I like to think about those times when I get dragged down by the routine.
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