I couldn’t find the left shoe,
So I traded my plan for the old pair,
Buried in dust piled from days not seen.
The road ahead is hazy,
Wipers frantically fighting the hailing waters
Slaying the screen and my view.
Im on a course,
A driver whose life is in transit
Moving trains; all I see,
Akin of a mobile,
Does anything stay as it should?
New home is my new vac to fill.
Sleepless I wage over the anxiety of being emptied
Moving trains outside my window,
Time flickers like the images startling me.
It won’t take me for the ride,
I sit glued yet stirred.
I missed my chance at a glance,
Life flutters by,
As fear grips.
As the iron wheels grind my tarred heart crumbled,
Choo choo choo,
Where are you going that I should watch you leave me behind?
I have climbed these wired fences,
That rip that my breast of courage, my core shaken.
The sun rises and fades in the cloud,
In its absence,
Life goes on.
What do you do when tomorrow
Is as precious to the Minute that ticks?
Only fine china stays young forever.
I am pottery and I can break.
Though each day I am mended,
My cracks don’t seem to stop seeping.
My hole is getting deeper
Sooner this pit will be shroud over my head,
And I will be split.
I am glass,
I am grouted into wood to have many faceted faces.
A muse for china.
My hands speak of the labour of each of my facets.
Unrefined I am not yet ready to be weighted.
Undefined my destiny has not roped me in,
Bring out the shovels before you take off without me.
Someone has got to find the diamond that’s buried within.
From the flashes of windows,
Kids are amused by the pace,
The wind sways to your tempo,
Serenaded by your every jolt and twist,
Kites that fly,
Will you let me take flight upon the feathered wings?
You make journeys possible.
My eyes are stung by the mud you spilled on my face.
The clay cements the only capacity
I have to reconsider you.
Reconsider; the lie that you are:
Entrapped in your mystery,
Consumed by your debonair demeanour,
I have been living in your many rooms
But none have truly taken me home to whole.
Each time you cough from your belly,
The chimney spits into my hollow pit.
Sucking the pillow of air I need.
The many passengers with whom you exchange,
Share this space with me,
Aloof as cloud-parts drifting,
Unbeknown of my name or last.
You bellow in laughter,
With every sing you sing; so distant to me.
Those kids are sticks
Stacked for the hot belly.
That kite flames with the passion to free itself
Train, go faster.
And now I sit in a pit seeing your face for the first time,
It dries my thirst for life,
Time; I have served to you,
The reflection of me I cannot find in your eye’s picture.
Oh you made me small so blind
As you lived.
Trains on the road outside.
There are loads of you,
I carry lorries of history with you,
I worry for they now seem a mystery too.
The shade of your skin is glum and muddy,
It’s the dirt I scrape from my face to find.
The wiry screech of your presence,
Is a wail for hell’s mirth.
Inside; the haven of being fixed where I am.
And in these moments knowing
The determination I have in your pass to
Propel the other way.
No one seems to see but me.
In here, I confess my lover’s leave
As I reclaim my soul’s lease to life unfurled.
And when you return,
I remember your pass as a hand on a hot plate.
Don’t you know, my scars paved my way?
Let me stay inside instead.