After the pay toll
I go down steps
to wait for a train
heading one way.

Glances reveal a
demon eyed glare
searching through
the dark tunnel,

a waft of air pushed
up against me, spins
the time I wait from
seconds to minutes.

I'm going underground.

It's warm, clinging
to soaked skin -
everyone is the same,
drenched in a fatigue

like tired ghouls
smothered in oil,
their bodies caskets
lined up as the day's

catch. We shuffle
into a viking funeral
riding the current
for the journey home.