Wednesday, December 29, 2010

On the bus

Honesty without thought, truth without a wink,
Creation of the purest form,
of nature, forever, yet on the brink,
on life's blank canvass or the fogged up window on a bus,
with lifes own breath in the afternoon rush,
Innocent faces disapear as they drip,
to the sea with the rest, and the water of thick

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