I’m sat in the window seat
Cool against my head,
vibrating softly with the hum of the tracks
Outside
snapshots of other people’s lives
A woman brushing crumbs from a table,
a child leaping over a puddle,
Grandmas saying goodbyes
Some sun,
some rain
Some days that feel like nights
The train moves forward,
always forward
No signs,
no names,
just a blur of motion and color.
Passengers shift around me,
luggage tucked under seats,
eyes full of somewhere
Their faces carry a quiet certainty,
as if they all agreed on the destination
before boarding
But I didn’t
I hold a pass stamped Nowhere.
No stop to look forward to
No reason for being here
except that I already am
I can’t get off
The train doesn’t stop for questions
There’s a tightness in my chest
that rises with each tunnel,
each bend,
each hollow station passed
And it’s not the motion that makes me feel sick
it’s the stillness underneath it
This strange dissonance
of moving so fast
yet going nowhere
I thought maybe the journey would reveal something
But the longer I sit,
the more the windows reflect back only myself
faint, flickering,
unmoved
Just headed
Nowhere
that never arrives.
Apr 6, 2025
Apr 6, 2025 at 6:48 PM UTC
I’m sat in the window seat
Cool against my head,
vibrating softly with the hum of the tracks
Outside
snapshots of other people’s lives
A woman brushing crumbs from a table,
a child leaping over a puddle,
Grandmas saying goodbyes
Some sun,
some rain
Some days that feel like nights
The train moves forward,
always forward
No signs,
no names,
just a blur of motion and color.
Passengers shift around me,
luggage tucked under seats,
eyes full of somewhere
Their faces carry a quiet certainty,
as if they all agreed on the destination
before boarding
But I didn’t
I hold a pass stamped Nowhere.
No stop to look forward to
No reason for being here
except that I already am
I can’t get off
The train doesn’t stop for questions
There’s a tightness in my chest
that rises with each tunnel,
each bend,
each hollow station passed
And it’s not the motion that makes me feel sick
it’s the stillness underneath it
This strange dissonance
of moving so fast
yet going nowhere
I thought maybe the journey would reveal something
But the longer I sit,
the more the windows reflect back only myself
faint, flickering,
unmoved
Just headed
Nowhere
that never arrives.