I missed my train...
to the relief of its feigned interest.
The bullet being me and mine again.
Triggered by a chance for joy.
‘Tis such a small window unfit for man
who takes upon himself each splendid task
to give in halfway under and breathe in release
as heavier days save a moment for grief,
and wasting for hours each minute.
...now in my mind I sigh at found reasons
as seasoned swelling seas part ever slowly,
to the trumpet of a train later - slated for something,
and now the unknown is its goal again,
and now the unknown is its lantern.
And now my chariot’s a fleece,
as it dances a wolf in said clothing of sheep -
mannerisms telling - mine eyes who’ve wept
like little boys peeping at destiny swept,
somehow proud of their life nonetheless,
somehow still at wondering.
My chance to miss a train - hear doppler effect roar out like line’s brevity.
Dear to stay here amongst shooting stars where thunder so steadily waits,
glancing at the passing of cars - searching for another train… praying at the ready,
within a trance like a model invoking inception
and lurid diaries.
I chose to miss a train by tying my laces.
And chosen, the next one is mine… even if it has a distance to close.