Get Your Premium Membership

8:40 and a Broken Bus

8:40 and a broken bus,
sitting quietly at my stop
anticipating a wide array
of nothing, 
anxiety unfolding
in dissonance, skewed
perception immature,
Eccentric,
I'll be stoned to death
for throwing rules;
Treason, heresy...

"I myself am God
And am become death
Destroyer of Self"

Murderer of Time,
Desecrator of Money,
survival. My pains 
are unlike yours...
I build freedoms, moments,
like unsteady towers,
and go mad for lack of mortar.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2012




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.


Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry