when middle finger paints a smile

do you think they would fuckin believe me if i told them that the goddamn bus was 30 minutes late from its schedule? hell to the fuckin no! those faux olympian gods at the building never accept explanations. for them, every fuckin word from your mortal fuckin mouth are just plain excuses. no ifs no buts. just plain motherfuckin excuses. so if my wristwatch says i'm late, then i'm late .no need to fuckin run like an idiot and beat the pedestrian traffic light to catch the next goddamn bus that will most probably run like a senior tour bus in a safari of inanimate creatures flocked by multicolored butterflies. fuck! i will walk like a civilized person with dignity. i will not run. i will never run. last time i checked a police officer who may have lost his brain from zombies gave me a ticket for running, no, make that fast walking. i got a ticket for walking with the speed of 35. what the fuck was that? so today, despite the constant nagging of the clock’s tick tock in my mind. i walked. i walked crossing the street, i walked down the subway. i walked upstairs to the nearest bus stop at broadway.

my wristwatch says i am 30 minutes late. and guess what? the building was still fuckin closed. the gods were late. fuckyeah.