Bus 58

The bus full of

blurred faceless creatures 

zombies without aim or

destination to hell

like an image of

dying, crying

while no death occurs

no tears are shed just

blurred faceless creatures

with mouths agape

as if ready to speak

of the crimes of mankind

but words fail them like

the rest of the world has, while

eyes ablaze with no fire

glare as if the very soul

had been usurped

from behind them

and a flicker of

hope escapes

into thin air like a

tree falling without

making a sound though

the bus continues to

crowd with blurred 

faceless creatures as

two stare into the abyss of

desperation, frustration

a mind full of screams

a voice empty of response

and though one stares

at the other none utters a

word as the bus makes its

routine stops

In and out they

come and go like

waves in a vast 

ocean of crimson

death no two alike

though each foams

at the mouth, rabid dogs

that don’t bark

that don’t bite, but

blurred

faceless

creatures alike