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Runaway Train Jan 2017
Heavy is the heart that carries him.
Drowning are the lungs that swim in his beauty.
Fragile are the fingers through which time slips fast.
Silent is the horizon.
Blue tinted and red stricken in the sky.
Purple is the drink.
Somber slumber overtakes her weary bones.
Dangerous are her dreams, for they do one of two things.
Deadly are her nightmares, of bullets and back lash.
Tainted is the beauty of her deepest desires, displayed in her subconscious.
Fractal is the universe, of which she is a speck of star dust.
Drawing near is the end of her dealing.
Runaway Train Jan 2017
Yesterday morning, I drove into work
Under the grey tint of a sunless morning
I couldn't feel my hands on the steering wheel
And my eyes recognized not the roads I've traveled
The roads I've seen for almost twenty one years, since I was a child
I'm not present in my own body
Cut off from space-time itself
A Shorty Shortâ„¢ by Runaway Train, describing a morning of driving to work
Runaway Train Jan 2017
Where are the words I wanted to write?
Where did they go when I needed them the most?
I want to scream, I want to crawl
All I can do is stare at the wall

And wait for the words to find me again
I'll be right here waiting,
Drowning in the corrupt, the selfish suffering
Watching the grey screen of movies buffering

The words are like a fleeting flicker
Arriving and vanishing within the same frame
Like a firefly never to be caught
A light continually sought

Still waiting, on words to express what my tongue cannot
I lay, silent and shaking, thoughts flying by
If only I could reach out and choose a few
What am I saying, this is nothing new.
I literally wrote a poem about how I cant write things because I can't find the words
Runaway Train Dec 2016
Yesterday is a waste. Tomorrow is a haste.
Today is all there is, and it's the last of them
I am a lost girl, overlooking dimensionless depths
The sea sings it's subtle songs,
The sky bleeds blues into oranges, reds into purples
And the cirrus clouds streak the sky like scars
Evening embers tinge the edge of existence
Reality retreating into it's final resting place
Tainted flower of fragile fights well fought
A lost girl, staring at the shining sun of sorrow
Knowing full well there is no tomorrow
more news that ain't fit to print by yours truly
Runaway Train Dec 2016
Let me do this. I shout internally
From the outside, through a gloomy window pain
The silent static of stormy suffering
What am even I doing here?

Begging, pleading with myself
Just do it. Just let it all end.
I can't, I reply. There is too much at stake
Funny, for such a waste of space.

Outside the window earth keeps turning
Flowers keep growing, colors bleed into the fabric of time
To only reach out and touch, I would be convinced
There has to be more than these four walls

Empty room and impending doom.
*this poem shouldn't exist tbh
Runaway Train Dec 2016
What should never be
Soul separating at the seams
Bullets in my dreams
Me eyeing that apartment on Bub Teems

What should never be
Mama in the bathtub, in the floor
Pinned to the wall, I can't take any more
In my bed shaking to the core

What should never be
Night time screams and deadly dreams
Pounding pulse and silent repulse
Soaking sheets and floor beats

What should never be
Picking up furniture, who's keeping score?
The fresh metal hole in the screen door
Speak of these things never more.
*proceed with caution

also my rhyme scheme fell apart but it's whatever
Runaway Train Dec 2016
In state of perpetual discomfort
An object in motion tends to stay in motion
And a woman in pain tends to stay in pain
Longing for things she knows not
Desperation of unknown origin
Technicolor daydreams, rendered euphoria
Take me to the field of wildflowers
Dipped in the last glorious light of evening
Because this house isn't a home tonight
Void, endless sky, drawing me in
Like a long lost friend who only wants to help
The hands that created the stars
Have a hold on my heart tonight
My first piece of nonsense.

— The End —