My present hardly exists.
The day to day feels the same as 6 months ago until she made her appearance.
I've been neatly pressed into a mold to fill this cog shaped hole.
Steamland could use a sandwichmaker like me. My angry bread would laugh at how stupid the machine-like dreams money grubbers and land lubbers ring in my ears.
They fear the truth behind scenery reflected in my eyes.
So they'll ignore my laughing meat slapped on heated grain to feed and sustain the dreadhorde that fills their pockets till the change clatters across this sterile concrete for the rats to fight over.
She says she smiles when I'm happy.
I smile when she smiles is that too sappy?
Are we now trapped in happiness now the search has hit the last stop of this decade-long fix?
I hope so. I have my doubts and baggage, though I'm fairly certain I forgot it on the last train stop platform. Now can I ask all passengers to please head to the next car 10$ richer and not look back as we have only just met and need to fill up each others lack of *****?