Cold air runs through the warm box,
The wheels churned the tracks, so train
slogs on.
The music leaves me deaf and the
silence outside is eerie,
The portraits that surround me are
locked in frame,
No smiles, no movement still souls in
transit.
The Ancient trolley wobbles through
the gallery,
A one-man band of crashes and snack’s,
Offering alcohol, to bring the spirits
back.
Every stop comes then soon passes,
Ignored by the masses,
Noted down on page
By those pretentious asses
Who harbour desire to break up
“normality”
With the tap,
tap, tap of technology
To break a cycle with repetitive
motions
Then while the train shoots of in a
flash
The rest of them remain, models in a
still life class
the motion isn’t easy
the outside is a blur
the angels in my ear
serenading
the sound paints the world
as more than fuzzy browns and greens
animating those who stare there at
their screens
but I guess that’s also me
inside my mind I’m simply locked in my
perspective
I wonder what the lady across would say
About my little word collective
“well ill have you know you little
prick
That I don’t look boring
I fink I’m quite fit
Besides you’re the creep searching
around
Like an addict looking for a fix
For something to say or write
Some nonsense and the like
Cause your as bored, plain and still
as the rest of us
Right?”
I guess she’s got me there
The train is just a syphon for the
life inside us
From the boy on the laptop
To the bloke on the kindle
Even the couple who just got on
chatting
But now stare at their own phones
Without a kiss or glance between to
ever happen
Trained to switch off the moment we
sit down
To recoil inside ourselves as deep as
we can go
In case we should ever dare to connect
with anyone else
