The thick smog of morning traffic gently carresses my lungs with it's carcinogenic touch.
Rapid transport
at the cost of health,
a compromise i'm willing to make.
Who isn't.
Trying not to touch the person next to you on the bus
their skin feels sticky against yours.
I remember trying to get away.
I'll just stand the whole journey, that way I won't have to touch anybody.
But they smell so.
I won't breathe the whole journey.
But they're hideous.
I keep my eyes closed.
Im not on the bus anymore, I'm in the cavernous enclave of my mind;
honeycomb brilliance.
A thousand thoughts, thinking at the same time;
jostling for attention;
synapses overcome, life a mere flash.
Remember nothing, love not a thing, feel as little as possible.
The more I invest the more I lose,
I don't want to lose myself to this world of people.
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Because out of the eons of evolution, she picked you, you are the culmination of perfection.
I am the most perfect incarnation of a human so far.
Yet I am so incomplete,
incompletely incomplete.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem