Writers Jam

I'm preoccupied with arriving at destination.
The little person operating my internal clock eagerly struck the right nerve fifteen minutes early.
Seems like they never knew hesitation.
I ran the bath on time, but I fell behind touching up on presentation.
Wasn't delayed yet, until the catering ran late,
Had to stuff my mouth with frustration.

I've carefully analysed the maps of this city,
Plotting out optimal routes to regular train and bus stations.
But today I don't want to be crushed by a crowd of people, with all their hardships and inconveniences
So I scramble to book a bike ride, in the next five minutes I'm taken

Through a twisted, knotted maze of fly-overs and two-way lanes,
The sun's rays reflecting off high-rise IT company buildings.
The roads are flooded with private cabs and public transit,
All the minds inside aimed at reaching occupation.

Cars pool out into a Gray Sea,
Only being parted by never ending divine blessing of construction work,
The trees of Freedom Park wave and cheer us on
Behind metal fences and high walls,
The shade of evergreen leaves casted on cashed out souls.

We take the turn towards station, I make the payment and I hasten towards the entry gate,
My body's aching and I hate the queues we've created for ourselves,
We chose our fate to march together in isolation,
In one direction, no matter how many plans and roads are laid out.

My sweat and tears are enough to flood my lungs and stream out from my face,
But if you think I'd dare to step out of line,
Don't hold your breath, I've got a train to catch in two minutes.
I'm running late again.