Boy Busied by Buses
He likes Spiderman but he's terrified of spiders He buys the twenty rupee pack of peanuts On the bus to the valleys beyond the city The peanut shells are mothers to the peanuts The dichotomous peanuts are sheltered from the harsh world in their brown housings Here the boy sits and peels off the shells Discarding them all in a sheer plastic bag All dead mothers lying together He shrugs away the dark thought and tries to focus his mind on the electroacoustic music wafting slowly though this earphones A portrait of his favourite colours is the desktop wallpaper of his choosing He's always had an affinity for abstract anonymous art pieces His mind can't focus and so can't his attention It's something he's had to forgive himself for feeling Others around him assume that it's okay That him having an unstable mind is somehow an acceptable part of who he is But he doesn't care about the others as much as he cares about himself Nobody has ever att