There's a Dead Man on the Bus

"There's a dead man on the bus!", the pseudo hood rat proclaimed.
I could see the bus driver look through his review mirror. His eyes drew a straight line to the back. His eyes were open but he wasn't breathing. Not breathing but drooling. It jerked. The bus not the corpse but I guess it jerked to a halt. We filed frantically off the bus as if the man were to give us a disease. I mean its not like he could've got up and chased us but i find it strange that unless one knows the body, a dead body is like a dead squirrel, gross. His headphones were blaring and Bruce Springsteen was the soundtrack to his death. He lay cold and expressionless. His eyes wide open. Even though he didn't make a sound in death he didn't look anything close to peaceful. Nobody tried for his pulse. No one called the ambulance right away. Just the sound of the complaining bus driver stating he didn't have time for this...strange. What a way to go

They're breaking it off she says. After 3 years of confusion and cocaine they're finally breaking it off. She said shit happens. Is it really shit or the inevitable? Either way I feel like somewhat of a home wrecker.
"I liked him at first but then the love and affection disappeared," she stated.
I hated how it made me feel. I come back from tour and she's taken. I wonder if she'll leave with me when I go out again. I'm too young to think about it.

Naptown and New Years

I brought it all home again. It started during the season that Kris Kringle made his way from house to house and seem to end on the New Year. How many times can I get lost inside my own house party? I counted five. Fading in and out of consciousness kept me jaded. My friends say she's really hot. I find myself repulsive only because of my height. Broad Ripple at first seemed like a breath of fresh air and then in one fowl swoop of the night bird it's reputation is ruined by pretentious fucks who don't realize I'm the real reason they're getting paid and I'm getting laid. A bittersweet sarsaparilla that could be a whole lot easier to swallow with some blue or red pills. Break it down how you want. She only looks at me in that way when she's been drinking so I'm not the man. More of a drunken arm reduced to a finger begging for penetration. Desperate I know. Half of the Sugar Gliders woke me to find myself laying next to 12 beer cans and some assorted flavors of chocolate. The ride was bland and so was the candy.