Waiting for the train
Toes of my boots on the edge of the yellow line
Stand back from yelllow line
Reads a sign straight infront of me
I think about how quickly I could end everything
Steps a bit further
I take a deep breath
Tears welling up within my tired eyes
My breath comes out shaky
Shaking my head as I step away
Wiping away the tears that overflowed my scarlett eyelids

Glancing around, I wonder
Who would have saved me?

             I'm not to sure I would save me

I talk so things make sense
I try and apply words to situations
I try and make people feel things
Help them understand and comprehend

I babble to fill the emptiness
In the air
In the world
In people's hearts

Words take up space
They're decorative fluff
Syllables I'm constantly filling
Just so no one calls my bluff

I don't know anything
I haven't a clue
Hopefully my talking helps someone, anyone
Know what to do

Slumbered scratching into a bedside notebook
   lying in darkness under a thick blanket of revelation
Afraid that lamplight may blind these 3am eyes
   to the dim, wispy glow of mystical comprehension

Trusting that valued mysteries will later be deciphered
   from this barely legible scrawl of the night
Refusing to squander such moments of divine lucidity
   captured in a poetic hand written outside the lines

Reluctant to wait until morning lest the light of day
   exposes a tenuous relationship to reality
Causing rays of enlightenment to glance off its surface
   in beams of obscure and superficial logic

Tangential truths
   scribbled in the dark