Of Gerard, Ray, Bob, Frank, and Mikey

I stare out through the clear plastic of the
bus windows,
People running through the drizzle;
A light pouring of blessing or
a wet curse. The rickety old man in the corner
and the youth in school uniform.

However;
I am immersed in my own world
created by the plugs in my
ear. Music or noise, take your side.
To me it's pure escapism.

Roaming eyes and mind. I live in the
real world but I'm far away:
This jarring oxymoron that meets in my
conflicted being.
How is it that the only thing that could understand me,
express me
love me
comfort me be a song?

Surrender myself to its loving arms.
Clashing cymbals. Thumping drums. Wailing guitars. Soaring voices. Raw emotion.

Cocooned within its embrace i watch
people running through the rain.

I am finally at peace.