This is a Bus With Wings



This is a Bus With Wings

Fly me high above the earth.
I need red clay forgiveness.
I need a Nina Simone gun with no bullets. 
Just fire.
Just freedom.
I bite down hard on my bottom lip to remind myself of the pain.

To feel something soft on my body filled with...
concrete, metal.
And somebody else's needles.

I am a shadow of myself.
I am the after hour party.
The next stop is my next stop.
Any stop. 
Just don't stop.
Keep driving bus driver until we reach the first clouds in the entrance to Heaven.

There has to be a safe place for women who had a yesterday and a serious of uncertain tomorrows.
This window is the entire world.
Maybe the earth is flat and square after all.
Maybe I could stop running in circles if I just went to the edge of this motherfucker and jumped.

This is better than jumping.
This is church revival.
Ooh baby.

They could never save me in those pretty places.
Too much stained glass.
I need to be able to see inside.

I want to hear my God in a simple place,

The loud speaker at a drive-thru menu
There you are.
I can hear you talking to me.
I love French fries.
Always have.

I can fix a lot of things about myself. 
That one I ain't changing.
Changing.

What in the hell is that anyway?

We all the same from the moment we are born.

Ain't we?

I'm moving but I'm still me.
I don't have a costume.
Not for this life.
I will ask God for a new one next time around.
Maybe.

Change is good.

Things we can't control we name good.
Getting high is good, when you can control it.
Check that shit out.

I just want to eat and sleep for a few months.
Wake up as a movie star in a different film and maybe some more meat to cover these bones.
This is not a movie.
I had to convince myself.

So here I am, a jar full of empty promises and letter never sent.

I couldn't hold him. 
I didn't know hot to hold him.
Who was guna hold me? Huh?

Wny we only born with these two hands anyway?

Explain that shit to me.

Women need more than two.

What is someone cut these off?

It happens.

Or arms.

They can just fall off from exhaustion.

What's up modern medicine?

Help me grow some new arms.

Humans ain't so special.
Can't just heal our wounds by a touch or kiss.
That's never enough.

We gotta take pills to fix our brains.
We so smart, we don't know how to think without some help.

That's all I needed.

A little help.

A cross to bear.
A bridge to cross.
I am not broken.
Just tired.

Damaged, slightly.

Nothing good lasts forever.

And sometimes...

...nothing bad does either.

This is my stop.
Can we land now bus driver?

That old bridge exists in the flection of the new.

Simply beautiful.

I need to sleep somewhere like that.
I need to wake up in the care of the sun.
I need to feel safe with my eyes closed.
I need to land.

Like an alley cat.

I paid my fare a million times.

(I am not a secret.)

I am screaming inside this shell.
Time can't find me here.
No more watches.
Everybody watches.

Watch me get off.
Watch me get off.

Watch me land.

I've got wings.
I've got wings.
This bus got  wings.
Just put this baby in drive and let's fly.

Let's exist together for the very first time.

Moore, Care Jessica. "This Is A Bus With Wings." Black Tea: The Legend of Jessi James, 2 October 2015.