I wrote a poem….
The jolt reverberates through the hardened suspension ,
His sober stupor is briefly rattled but not rallied,
Discs in the back stiffen as the brake discs screech,
Conclusions seem distant and, unlike the bus, lack direction.
The straps of the backpack straggle on the floor,
Without care of consequence they flick at unsteady feet,
Racing away from the sunrise, too fast, flashing by
Something seems destined to crash.
Dulcet sounds tickle the drums, twisting and sparkling,
Thoughts try to process, light glimmers between the bass,
Grey matter puffs with indignant disposition,
Colour fills capillaries, deceiving wandering eyes.
Perspex barriers remove us from early winter reality,
Metaphysical questions lie unanswered in the river fog,
Confusion reigns in front, metal chariots going everywhere or nowhere,
Impulsion lies in nature, melancholy perforates the concrete sky.
It’s 7.48am, Wednesday.