The Other Side

I wanted to go away. I wanted a true user one experience. I wanted it. I wanted it. I wanted it. So we parted ways around 5 a.m. I boarded the bus. I picked a seat in the front, left hand, window side. Fourteen hours. Fourteen hours I rode. The snow caps of Kilimanjaro, receding in the distance. Farm after farm after farm after we drove. South, south, south we drove. Each passing mile, farther and farther I got from anything I had ever known. Hour after hour, coming into my own. Fourteen hours to the city. Arriving under the cover of dark. Down a dark ally, to the hotel hidden in the corner, take me to the room, the room in the back where the roaches live. Take me to the room where mosquito net gracefully dances with the steady breeze of the dated ceiling fan. I want the painted sky-blue walls to be covered with the slightly brown stains of polluted city air. In the wee hours of the morning, take me from that room, take me to the taxi stand, the taxi stand where I shall shit, surrounded by friendly strangers. Pack me inside that van, tighter than I’ve ever been before. Five more hours, just drive me for five more hours. Packed inside that van, closer to anyone I’ve ever been before, yet farther than I’ve ever been alone. Five hours, bump us along the road, passengers come, passengers go. Five hours, we’re riding this one till the end of the line. Take us to the edge of the continent. It’s not the edge we’re looking for, but it’l do. We want to go away. We want to go away. We want to go away. In that place, for 12 hours we waited. In the darkest places we’ve ever been, we waited. We woke at the ungodly hour, broke our fast and lined up for departure. We want to go away. We want to go away. We want to go away. So we load ourselves onto the boat. From the edge of the stern to the tip of the bow, every space fills. Shortly thereafter the crew draws the anchor and we set off on the edge of safety, sailing towards the rising sun. Five more hours. Five more hours we cross rolling sea. The waves consistently crashing over the port side of our boat, we rock and we roll our way away. Take us away. Take us away. Take us away. Just five more hours. We safely get to shore, but surely we havn’t arrived. Just a few more hours now. I swear it’s on the other side. 

-Pirate Fresh