Sitting Alone in the Bus on a Lonely Night

Sitting alone in an empty bus.
Waiting for people to walk right in.
The bus was so bright that it burnt my eyes.
It's dark outside i don't know what it means.

I just sat still...
And stared at my bill...
I just sat still...
And stared at my bill...

The driver came into the bus.
He took a step and just stared right at us.
Holding a flask and a cup.
He started the bus and wished us all luck.

I was afraid...
Of what he said...
I was afraid...
Of what he said...

Driving through all of these empty streets.
Fear passes through me right down to my knees.
All of my thoughts just paused.
Remembered about the bill I have lost.

I put it there...
Now i don't know where...
I put it there...
Now i don't know where...
I was afraid...
I was afraid...
I was afraid...
I was afraid this was going to happen.

(Thanks - Sufjan Stevens. Happy New Year.)

Speculations

Nothing much has happened to be since my last blog. I have had all these things not written about me to consume larger amounts of my time and presence. Speculations disappear when one doesn't exceed the knowledge of one's self. I have had too much of nicotine in too short of a time. The woman in the corner of my eye fades ever so slowly. Wish I knew her well enough to forget. I Just realised that I am not as sane as I used to be. Speculations disappear.

The end is near

The way he walked didn’t say much in the beginning. But they all knew that there was a big story behind it. I wish I could have deciphered how and what the story would have been like. He just walks up and down the corridor selling tissue packs to those who walk pass him ever so often. He just stood there at times talking to himself as if there was someone listening. I wanted to know him badly. He looked old and haggard, wearing the same clothes day after day. He seemed to be a man of many words but no one cared to listen to him. His limp was very mechanical and it followed a tempo. One two skip; one two skip. The bus drivers from the station referred to him as ‘Goyang’ as he moved like a pendulum when he walked. Man of many words. I called him the Pudu Saint. In the midst of the hustle and bustle in the Pudu Bus Terminal he would sit and have open air speeches for all to hear. Pudu Saint was astonishingly oblivious to the fact that no one listened to him. But I did. Nothing he said made sense to a lay man. He never realized that I listened to him.