The journey.

artwork  Timwnas

What he feared most was
  to miss his journey.

 some bread and ham squeezed
in the bag.
Schedules  alternate on  luminous  boards
Loudspeakers, suitcases that crawl, transit.
Yellowed fingers 

rubbing his eyes
to awaken.
Road.

The embarrassment of awkward penetration
haunted all subsequent acts.
Flawless smiling faces in cellophane.
Humidity and swollen clits.
Dry mouth.
Rehearsed words with coffee.
Pissing before boarding.

Every year he shrinks his clothes

 Every year,  appeared taller
Every year the crowd around him increased 
 Every year, became more ugly, 

 meanest, 

 dirtiest
  He was like a sorrowful disease.
  A sick sorrow.

Dehydrated.
He knew that was impossible to feel.
To feel something, you need to be present

Nothing was the same anymore
Not even his reflection on the mirror
Frayed picture, 

 moving at
synthetic liquid road
without destination.
Routes, bus schedules,
loudspeakers, boarding, departure.