That sometimes I want to write
even when I don’t have words to type
That sometimes I want to scream
even though it’s only a dream
That sometimes I want to run
even though it’s me who’s holding the gun
That sometimes I want to cry
for those who now know what it’s like to die
That sometimes I want to be patient
even though the delay makes me feel ancient
That sometimes, I want some times
just to feel.
So..we have a problem.
I don’t get the bus to work any more.
I was thinking, it kinda makes the name/ethos of this blog
redundant.
I drive now – a rise in my pay packet
and that I have a car means
I drive over the Harbour bridge every day.
Tunes blaring, foot to the peddle,
left foot just on the edge of the clutch,
ready to push it in, hold-hold- as I go around the corner,
quick check, look see
nothing coming
bang, slam it into 3rd, and push it aroundÂ
in the outside lane
around that gorgeous hairpin on to the bridge.
But I digress,
thoughtsonthebus
thoughtsinthecar
thoughtswhilei’mwashingup
thoughtseverysinglesecond..
Creatives, huh?
Who’d be one??
I would.
And so my bus stops.
But i never will
x
