by Tenebris

Created on: June 26, 2008

[public transit]

The seat behind the driver's chair is mine
The only section from his mirrors hid
So when I slide my ticket in the lid
Myself as well, exact behind the line.
Once safely in my chrysalis entwined
Enclosed from world without, one soul amid
The wasteland, mindless thread of selfdom rid
By silk self-wrought, to block out every sign
Of intimates, of thees and thous and thine
Bereft in dreamless slumber, cold sea-brine:
On every face a narrative is writ
Though lacking script, dull eyes retain the wit
In protest, shriek against the endless tide -
But I remain, unseeing and unspied.

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