Going Home

Listening to metal alarm bass lines and rapid frets while watching the unfiltered sun twist its way through bleached leaves and power lines. Lull. Cymbals clash. It's all for you. You got me where you want. Turning a corner only shifts my gaze to the heartless blue stretched over an empty, watery expanse. You got me where you want. The bus bounces in time with the thumping bass. End. Countdown to next time.