Wolves & Horses: The Wheels on the Bus.

by Zachary Franck

Ah, another wet, Wednesday evening.

Another Upstate New York late night placed in the midst of an early September, 

Another late nights rain takes yet another early morning as an out-matched hostage.

I sit under the dim light of a cracked lamp-shade while wearing a soaking, wet grey sweater and a Colorado Rockies hat. Bukowski once said, “Isolation is the greatest gift you can receive ". Pure genius.

And the wheels on the bus go round and round..

People live and people die; Some happy, some said, some successful, some failures others stuck in the very middle with their souls fighting to keep hold while their brain and heart stay in a constant battle push and pull.As they tell themselves that everything is fine. everything little thing is going to be alright. I wonder if Marley knew how fast the cancer cells were multiplying throughout his body,  undiscovered.  And slowly but surely taking over and depleting his organs, shutting them down one by one until there was not enough health in him to live let alone fucking sing that stupid fucking song.

Or maybe i'm completely wrong, totally fucked in the head with an absolute sick and twisted perspective on life and death, along with all of the meaningless bullshit in between. I'm probably just another maniac whose misfitted thought process has held him back, pushed him forward, and ultimately has restrained him for the rest of his life. Hey! at least i'm not mediocre, i'd fucking swallow a shotgun shell before I let myself be described as mediocre. What a horrible fucking adjective that is, It's worse than normal.

And the day I become normal is the day that I stop writing and the day I feel as free as the wind that blows through the treetops in my mothers' backyard, at the same exact time i'll cry every day and night until i sleep, imprisoned in my own mind, a paradox that will plague me for the rest of my life. The day that I stop writing, The wheels on the bus will stop, the door will open and I will step off, into the road of reality, only to get ran over by a mac-truck.