pmsl

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Slow Bus To Portsmouth.

Riding with a bus load of rejects,
From some artless slasher flick,
Where do all the freaks go?
During daylight,
And how can so many of them afford to ride this bus?
With me.
No one talking.
Overcome by the smell of the drunks piss.
When do I get home?
Please,
When do I get home?

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