What is this train doing
To me?
Going to all the wrong places
And has the driver no control?
Other passengers are screaming as if homeless
To persuade the driver to take this trembling namby-pamby sick ****
To their own favourite towns.
When I sit quietly in an infrequently haunted compartment,
the wasted smell from the toilet
And these riotous noises
Of the driver failing, the train stopping at lonely stations
and others howling unnecessary caps locks and exclamation marks
Infiltrate my senses and at the end of this journey,
You can see through the flimsy permeability
The holes are so prominent
Yet light doesn't enter. The train's timings are weird - all in the night.
The train gets derailed at one point due to the ruckus,
on fire and the searchlight came very late,
didn't notice my quivering queer hand rise amidst a burnt heap of luggages of people who led to this ravaging
managed to creep out of the train at the right moment,
And desolated for the moses to grow inside this melted metal mess and through the rest of me.
This is too big a coffin for me- unceremonious, caliginous and under the open sky
There's not much of me left to give back to.
Train= mind, driver= thoughts, passengers= other people who influence or rule over your weak malleable mind.