Light strobes across my vision, being shown new patterns
on the perfect shiny paint job
you take such attention
in waxing

Train blowing its horn at one thirty two in the morning
moaning out over
miles of razor
live oak

When it all lets out, and the bars bleed back home
we find where
those without
one go

A tunnel into another **** tunnel, never find surface
The train is screaming now, you can hear her ringing in gathered turmoil
boiling up and off and gone
to some other track in the back of an alleyway of a world

Toes curled around the nose, shift center and reenter lane
Hemlock and wolfsbane
triple sixes rolled
on celoo dice
nothin nice