A Bus Ride

The bus driver was high, high as a kite.
He was fat too and his eyes were glazed over just like a dead man’s.
He held the gear stick in one hand and daaru bottle in another.
As he changed the gear, he took a few gulps.
*Glug!*
And again
*Glug!*
And again.
*Glug!*
I watched in horrid fascination and thought,
maybe I’ll die today, then again, maybe not.
The bus ride was long. It was hot, sticky and stinky.
I looked around and I thought, no one cares.
The driver was drinking and smoking himself to death.
And no one cared. Even I didn’t.
I saw his face through the rear view mirror,
and my stomach lurched.
I saw dry, red insomnia ridden eyeballs
straining against the twelve o’clock afternoon sun,
colourless parched skin,
and a ghost of a man.
Being high as a kite and all,
he unfortunately saw nothing but a mix of yellow and white with hints of red and green.
The yellow was slowly fading away and then there was only white.
The bus banged into a car and everything went black.
I was throw in front.
I was only eleven years old then.
I was numb all over, and it hurt too.
My mouth was bitter, I had bitten my own tongue.
As I straightened myself up avoiding the bodies I thought, blood tastes weird.
Then I spat some out.
I inhaled some diesel and vomited.
Someone grabbed me by the arm and flung me out of the bus.
I hit the road hard, and it hurt like hell.
I had dislocated my shoulder.
He had dislocated my shoulder.
The bus driver rested his face on the steering wheel and looked at me.
He probably didn’t want me dirtying the floor.
He kept on staring. I realised he was dead.
What a damn shame I thought.

Man And Bear

In the woods, under the shade of great oak trees,
where the smell of dew intoxicated the air,
Man and Bear stood still, entrapped in time.
They peered into each other with a lonely, stark silence,
and their eyes told of a story, the only story there is, the story of life.
Many moons passed, until the heavens thundered, the wind howled, and slowly the rain came.
But they were unmoved by the flooding of the great Missouri,
they were calm and content, in the eye of the storm.
And as Nature wreaked havoc, the Bear inside him slept.

“They say when a man and an animal have spilled each other’s blood, they become one.” – One Stab, Legends of the Fall (1994)

I once dreamed

I dreamt of wisps of grey dancing in the morning sun,
the rustle of restless trees, swaying,
the soft, moist earth waiting to be home to withered leaves,
the crunch of naked, excited footsteps on this forlorn, forgotten path,
leading onto a blue infinity.
It was me,
I was walking further and further away,
away from land, towards the sea.
I undressed myself, and
as I was about to jump in,
I halted when the water sizzled white coming in contact with my feet.
A comforting, yellow warmth peaked out of the clouds,
and when I looked down at the distorted, construed reflections,
a tumultuous sound escaped my mouth.
I realised I was truly lost,
I always had been.

Adolescent Rage

There is a battle which we face
not many times in our short lives.
No one knows of them,
no one can know.

In our adolescent rage,
we do things when
there is no right or wrong,
just a confusing grey.

Realisation hits hard,
harder than a brawl
in the local pub.
Sicker than the cud
resurfacing up.

Then comes resentment and self-loathing
sickening to the core
followed by despair
and so much more.

At the end,
there is but one result,
one recurring thought:
to be good,
to be good with all our heart.

Victim of Circumstance

“A lustfull madness
fills their minds,
a blinding darkness,
a sinful right.”

“They have gone astray,
they have merely forgotten
their true purpose in life.”

“Let me ask you this, my friend:
who are they to preach
when their faith is no faith at all
but an excuse to wreak
havoc and cause pain.”

Isn’t it so easy to write and rationalise?
But it is also not hard
to put yourselves in their shoes
and see through their eyes.

A victim of circumstance,
are we not?

Memories

*Thud thud*,
*Thud thud*.
She approaches.

*Thud thud*,
*Thud thud*.
They dash to their seats.

*Thud thud*,
*Thud thud*.
“Good morning ma’am!”

A fervent cry,
Laughter and joy.
Today’s gonna be a good day.

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