Going Where I Don't Know

My feelings aren't hurt,
no, they aren't even alive
to feel what I think they weigh
be dispensed on the sidewalk,
like something worthless,
not worth a second glance,
heck, just a nothing, made up
to excuse my thought-like trance.

Honestly, these expectations
are just too much noise;
I think I'm more, I'm not,
and then the echo deploys.
The world's caught up in it
and my friends all sign up
to what I don't understand,
and I feel it within me erupt.

There isn't much left for words,
forgiveness has already come,
and yet for it to stay with me,
control has to be left alone
so here I go, walking towards
what I don't know, unplanned
and a world's path dodged to find
the one that by it isn't manned.

Where The Bus Stops

A loud nothing, detonating
aloud; proudly I believe
I can resuscitate my own,
before it kids with who I see ahead.

Echoes bantam on the sidewalk.
I'm running tip-toed through the fray
that I can hear but I bet that guy
who's waiting for the bus cannot;
he's got his iPod in his ears
listening to sprockets turn,
living something dead
until he's one with what he wants.

I wonder if his music's mine,
at least in like, so that we can
at some point, be together and not
exchange glances that avoid.

Looking into his eyes,
I see myself speak, harm done,
yet not in the conversation,
because he's waiting for the bus
and frankly, I don't know where he's off to,
another station on his mind map,
searching in the struggle of signs
for himself, as he moves right past.