When we sit at staionary station
Watching
Our essence drift by
Sometimes you'll find the strength
To reach out
At the trails left behind.

But sometimes you won't.

And as you impound
These thoughts, it's already too
Late.

You wait, wondering where; people
Have gone,
You open your eyes, realising they were never closed.
And you tumble slightly onto the tracks.

As the memoirs of your evening come back,
You awaken screaming internally at all the empty faces.

You squint briefly
To the inconveince of blinking.

But you are no longer there.

I remember being dizzy
As I followed the spiral staircase of life.

I lost my feelings somewhere inbetween the railings
Someplace near the bottom?
Or maybe on the steps?

I used to articulate my sadness
But silently fell numb; empty.
Perpetually avoiding all matter.

I lay here for days wishing I could sleep.
Counting the passage of time, but not really.
I sleep while watching my eyesight fade.

Sometimes I'll ponder the beauty of making red petals.
With knives I'd like to buy.
I dream about the luxury of sharing them with my bathroom.

To show I existed once

But for now I merely exist.

I'm diabolically lonely
And in love
With melancholy

As she leaves me
Like a cancer on my lips
My wisdom depreciates--

And I miss the depressions
She left me in the snow.
When we talk, she tries to whisper
Sweet Sundays of pill-popping
To hangman Tuesdays.

But I am too afraid to leave my house.
It's stagnant here.
With the sadness I should marry.

Kissing me one last time before I get to leave.

It's her soul
That's broken
We mist it.

Failing to save her.
He fell frustrated,
Trying to strangle callouses
On his hands.

Until moonflowers shone
The brightest black.