the only day w/o you (or bus)
I froze, anorexic, in that cold weather. The moon made no sense, infact it may have laughed at me as I stood there, hoping something would change.
Lets s start with the weather. Start simple, and work our way up, until all of mankinds problems are solved, and my bones no longer show themselves thru my paling skin...yearning for the day that they burst thru and I fall shaking to the ground. Make me a cake and stick it in front of my faceforce the skin tougher, like leather that refused to allow bullets to pass thru it. There I am, the leather bag of bonesshivering in a winter that could be no higher than twenty degrees without the wind.
But of course the wind is there, passing the needles across my cheeks and insulting me further by leaving no trace of itself and the pain it brings. My head is covered, my ears, and every limb of my frails bodybut the cheeks are exposed, and theyve become a battleground where the wind always wins and leaves absolutely no survivors.
I began to think that perhaps the bus would never come, and I would be forced to try and walk those nine grueling miles to work as my face was sharply raped by this breeze. Oh, you fucking sadistic bus driver guy, you know how goddamn cold it is out here. You know how cold its been for the past three weeks, and how cold it will be for the next nine or ten weeks...and maybe, just maybe, you could force yourself to push that pedal a little further toward the floorboard and speed that big hunk of shit bus up just a tad. Hell, pass a couple of stops on your way, and watch the confusion arise in the faces of the two or three people that are also waiting for you, and chuckle heartedly when that confusion gives way to an overwhelming urge to chase you down and beat the holy fuck out of you with your own legs after they have been ripped from your torso that is now being covered in the urine of that enormous Mexican who is only riding this bus for nine more days and his job up north is completed. Do it. Get some balls, and hurry to me.
Putting my glove-covered hands over my nearly numb face only warmed it up enough to accept the new wind as a foreign force that started the duel routine of freezing and fucking my face until nothing more remains but one giant pus-filled blister that I could pop with a thumbtack and drown the city around me. I cant concentrate to read and I cant sit rocking back and forth because goddamn that seems like it does nothing but make you look foolish to the hundreds of people that are passing me by in their almost certainly well-heated vehicles, and I get nothing more than a pity-filled look and maybe a wave, as if they already know that I am going to freeze to DEATH and they send me their best regards on my journey to come. And I silently chanted something between a curse and a prayer that all of them would simultaneously crash their cars into the trees that were lined up in the median in the road. The ensuing fire would give them ample opportunity to know the heat, and I may even stroll over and roast a mellow or two over the flames and warm my bum before the blaze hits the gas tank and sends little shards of overly-heated car six miles in every direction.
Honestly, the thought did make me crack a smile.
I froze, anorexic, in that cold weather. The moon made no sense, infact it may have laughed at me as I stood there, hoping something would change.
Lets s start with the weather. Start simple, and work our way up, until all of mankinds problems are solved, and my bones no longer show themselves thru my paling skin...yearning for the day that they burst thru and I fall shaking to the ground. Make me a cake and stick it in front of my faceforce the skin tougher, like leather that refused to allow bullets to pass thru it. There I am, the leather bag of bonesshivering in a winter that could be no higher than twenty degrees without the wind.
But of course the wind is there, passing the needles across my cheeks and insulting me further by leaving no trace of itself and the pain it brings. My head is covered, my ears, and every limb of my frails bodybut the cheeks are exposed, and theyve become a battleground where the wind always wins and leaves absolutely no survivors.
I began to think that perhaps the bus would never come, and I would be forced to try and walk those nine grueling miles to work as my face was sharply raped by this breeze. Oh, you fucking sadistic bus driver guy, you know how goddamn cold it is out here. You know how cold its been for the past three weeks, and how cold it will be for the next nine or ten weeks...and maybe, just maybe, you could force yourself to push that pedal a little further toward the floorboard and speed that big hunk of shit bus up just a tad. Hell, pass a couple of stops on your way, and watch the confusion arise in the faces of the two or three people that are also waiting for you, and chuckle heartedly when that confusion gives way to an overwhelming urge to chase you down and beat the holy fuck out of you with your own legs after they have been ripped from your torso that is now being covered in the urine of that enormous Mexican who is only riding this bus for nine more days and his job up north is completed. Do it. Get some balls, and hurry to me.
Putting my glove-covered hands over my nearly numb face only warmed it up enough to accept the new wind as a foreign force that started the duel routine of freezing and fucking my face until nothing more remains but one giant pus-filled blister that I could pop with a thumbtack and drown the city around me. I cant concentrate to read and I cant sit rocking back and forth because goddamn that seems like it does nothing but make you look foolish to the hundreds of people that are passing me by in their almost certainly well-heated vehicles, and I get nothing more than a pity-filled look and maybe a wave, as if they already know that I am going to freeze to DEATH and they send me their best regards on my journey to come. And I silently chanted something between a curse and a prayer that all of them would simultaneously crash their cars into the trees that were lined up in the median in the road. The ensuing fire would give them ample opportunity to know the heat, and I may even stroll over and roast a mellow or two over the flames and warm my bum before the blaze hits the gas tank and sends little shards of overly-heated car six miles in every direction.
Honestly, the thought did make me crack a smile.
VIEW 9 of 9 COMMENTS
bsided:
after about sicks or seven the holes became traps for pesky neighbors
jacinda:
