Derailed huh?
Like the train is off the track?
Maybe.

Or maybe not.
Like the train took a wrong turn.
I think.

The wrong junction.
Diverted at the wrong intersection.
Maybe.

Conductor confused.
Wondering where it went wrong.
Yeah.

But still
You're on the tracks love.
No doubt.

there's nothing more unusual than syllables and tones
the movements of the tongue that you can feel with all your bones
if we could be their master what a world we would create
a frequency identical to humans and their ways
where someone else's stories can be ones to call your own
the art of you believing you would never be alone
but even as you speak there is a purple on your words
the portrait of a shadow that should not have been disturbed
for while you're sleeping steady there's a face that's on the loose
with cadency unrivaled and a notion for the noose
the case is in the details, in the smallest of the small
and what is most important - we may never see it all
a feeling is a feeling but a purpose is the sea
so put it all together - it was real for you and me

When will the tide come in?
     When will it wash away the footprints you left in the sand?
When will the rain pour?
     When will it shower and clean the tracks you left in the street?
When will the wind pick up?
     *When will the breeze sweep away your scent from the house?

Tracks upon flesh
Stresses released, valves now eased,
Teardrops of crimson.

What is the world we live in?
Who are the people we forgivin?
Time slips with the sand and for me
Nights are days and days are nights
Shimmered through pain
And showing us lights.

Who should I follow?
The people or God?
Will I fall in love
With that person or not?
I lost my tracks but there are more to follow
I think I should go to the shady hollow

My dreams are ripped,
Not because of pain
The people who live,
Drive me insane.
They don't want to give
Others a happy reign
So I follow the path which leads me to rain.

I cry, I cry
But nobody knows
Because the raindrops hide
The tears I show.

I lost my tracks but there are more to follow
I think I should go to the shady hollow.

Who are THEY we refer to?
Why do we do
The things THEY want us to do?
We are here finding "The Great Perhaps"
But do we know what our world has?
My feet are bare and the stones,
They *****
The blood that flows
Makes me more sick
But I made a mark to where I go
So that there are people who are there to show
The path that I have always followed
Which leads me to where,
I don't know

The drops of heaven smear my blood
My inner colour paints red on the mud
My life has not ended,
I have some hopes
For the life I was lended,
So I could climb up some ropes
I won't lead the way,
But my life would
I won't let myself to be swallowed.

I lost my tracks but there are more to follow,
I think I should go to the shady hollow.

One step forward,
Two steps back,
You don’t make it,
It makes you,
Luck is for the dreamers,
I am becoming a realist,
Take off the mask,
Wipe away the makeup,
Brush your hair,
Stare at your face,
Who are you?
Are you the face you apply each day?
Are you the persona you carry?
Take a good look,
Stare at your eyes,
Brown flecked with green,
What do they want to see you do?

Wash away the day,
Scrub away the thoughts of doubt,
Reassure yourself that you have got this,
You have to have this,
No one else will have it for you,

Curl up and try not to cry,
When did you miss so much?
Try to get your life on track,
But what track, which one?
Don’t pick paths which will lead you back to people,
People are never constant,
They change like the weather,

Fall asleep,
Don’t rest though,
Have your mind plagued with thoughts,
Let the past crash down around you,
You could have done things differently,
You could have saved that,
Why did you care so much?
Why did you put them before you?

Wake up,
Let the mask reform,
Plaster on that smile you get compliments on,
Day in day out,
You are a better person,
Not knowing what kind of person you really are at all.

(e.m.w)

Ruins.
Somewhat like a fallen temple, sheets thrown across carelessly and books scattering the floor.
Clutter a sign of genius, as you inhale your cigarette slowly killing your aching soul, hoping to maybe absorb some of the lit flame.
Traces of nights long and tiresome, coffee stains on ink splattered pages, blankets rustled from lovers left without a second word.
Empty, like the coffee *** that you refuse to clean more than once a week.
Bits and pieces of memories ****** down a pipe from the white wine that left your system this morning.
You look so beautiful when you sleep.
Years taken off with wrinkles and fine lines missing, full pink lips that explain everything i've ever needed to hear.
Candle wax left upon tables from hot baths that resulted in ***** of words that were better left unsaid.
Come closer.
Close enough that we are mingling carbon dioxide and oxygen, absorbing every ounce of life.
Love, soaking through my blood like the iron that is running through my thin veins.
Tied together with twisted heart strings, branched and torn, split and tried.
Ruins.

in geography we learnt that there are
plates under us
drifting in underlying motion
it is said that when collided
brings with it an
ecstasy of disasters
i liken to how i feel at seven pm
on the train home
from work
practice balancing on metal plates
as faded sceneries
unwind before my very eyes
the occasional crash into strangers
brings with it a divergent of
careless intimacy
nothing stays long enough for a smile
just floating heads
a flurry in their tragic minds

Well after the conductor yelled,
“All aboard,” and well after all
of the tickets were punched;
a group of people,
who didn’t know one another
were all headed north.

Little hands turned through pages
while larger ones were cupping
at the window, trying to get
a better view of the night sky.
A farmers pasture flashed by,
but went unnoticed in the dark.

A few seats down slouched a frail
grey haired lady, with her hands
clasped around a small bouquet
of daises.  And across the aisle,
towered a man who’s hands
could hold a dozen eggs.

Alone in the corner was a red
dressed woman; doing her best
to not spill her coffee. She watched
the children next to her fall
into an innocent sleep.
And ripples echoed in her fingers.

She thought about how strange it is
that everyone on a train
can be going the same direction
but have different destinations.
And then she thought about
how tired the conductor had looked.