MONDAY BLUES

the cock crows again

its the dawn of a new day

his eyes still heavy with sleep

he dreads the icy cold water

on his bare skin

clothes barely ironed

shoes not quite polished

room in a state of  mess

that'll wait,cant miss the bus again

not a decent vehicle in sight

he opts for the death on wheels-MOLUE

thats what its called-right?

the awful smell of bad breath and cheap cologne

hangs in the air

misplaced elbows.poing hes ribs

he sticks his head out the window

for a bit of fresh,unpolluted air

hes heart pumps faster than usual

as he crosses the mainland bridge

the driver drunk with madness

speeds like death awaits him

he thinks about the swimming lessons he didnt take

poor fella...like one with heavy fever..he begins to shake

he breaths a sigh of relief

as they reach the other end of the bridge

driver signals to hes side kick

who prances about collecting the bus fare

where yer moni" he shouts

as if speaking to a deaf ear

in a fit of anger and fustration

he flings the money at the conductor and hurries off

while curses are rained on him

he mutters hes under his breath

late for work

the boss..

is down his neck again

the pay isnt worth the work

but there are mouths to feed

he dares not talk

the same menacing cycle on the journey home

the sun has died

and the stars rule the sky

home sweet home at last

jus then nepa strikes....

Nice poem