A green school bus
At the bottom of the sea.
A cold, heavy home,
For the likes of you and me.
At the front door there’s an usher
He greets me with a line.
He says: “We’ve got much to do
If we’re to waste all this time.”
But isn’t there a purpose
To me ending up here?
“Yes, definitely,” he reassures,
“You can’t just
But say i were to let go?
The current’s strong around these parts
What if it just
Away to a fresh start?
The barnacles and algae
that wall this rusty shell
Nod their silent agreement
That i depart this listless hell.
“Your flesh won’t make that journey,”
The usher spits into the wind,
“Just come inside and take a look
At our little house of sin.”
“You see, you need to stay, new friend,
I insist you simply must.
Our engine runs on in-finite fuels
Before the last word was garbled out
I noticed, at my feet,
He’d clamped a weathered anchor
a chorus of conceit.
It dragged along the mossy floor
and followed me inside,
All the while my bones, they screamed
to run, to hide, to die.
Armchairs loomed in fresh leather
Where the bus seats used to be,
I imagined their new residence
Some place sandy, rusted, free.
The barman poured out shots of gas
Directly from a leak,
I watched the bubbles bounce about
Before I watched them flee.
Arriving and departing,
It seems that kind of place.
Only I’m in shackles
And there’s too much empty space.
You’ve set up this whole spectacle
Just for the stranger at your door?
“Naturally! We’re purveyors of
… They make for fine decor.”
At that i give the interior
A fresh second inspection:
Walls papered with tax returns,
Ballots from farcical elections.
What godless place have I stumbled on?
I must’ve muttered aloud,
For now the usher chokes a rasping laugh
“We’re a long way from the clouds”
Glancing up instinctively
I’m met by my own fate:
Kilotons of sea above,
Snap-crackle tectonic weight.
I was told that Hell would scorch me,
Singe my skin and my insides,
But the ennui that burns me here
Is marbled and dead-eyed.
It’s logical, thinking back now,
That death should feel this way:
A damp and musty sleep
Like flesh on an ice tray.