Tuesday, January 25, 2011


This cold seat feels like a cement tomb
As I sit in the back
Each bump jostling my mind
Making me question my resolution
Is this the ride of freedom I proclaim?
Or a slow escape from the mundane?
It’s hard to see where I’m going
Through mud splattered windows
That fog with the breath of strangers
With each stop and fugitive that boards
I doubt this vessel can leave town fast enough
For me to escape my love for you

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