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Bryce Nov 2018
They are spearheads
The trees, stewsters in the Grey
On Somber window.
eng jin Apr 2018
chug a choo,
here goes the west-bound train
skimming brooks and hopping lakes
wheeling its way
into the fading rays
some head home,
some to a new hope
can one sit calmly on a rumbling train?
through the windowpane
up in the sky
a timid star shines
mhmm Nov 2018
I wish you all the best, but I want all your best.
I want you to finally be happy and be in a good place, just as long as that place is inside my house.
I can’t promise that I’ll ever be happy for you, because I want to love you at your happiest.
I crave you at your most productive.
most passionate.
least insecure.

I want the best you,
and I still can’t understand why you couldn’t be him for me.
Nitin Bisht Nov 2018
I glanced at the station from an unclear window,
people oblivious to my existence coming by,
some with full of joy and fantasies,
others with hellos and goodbyes.

While sensing being the only introvert
with my 90's desolated playlist,
she came towards me, with a west to east smile,
settling, asked me to help out with her load.

I bobbed, and,
The earth started to rip away,
I feel the winds of change blowing in my face
I wrote it while travelling in a train
James Nov 2018
got on the train today,
and as it descended down towards home,
I got off two stops before.
saw a girl so empty and ugly,
I wanted to join her.
I met a little boy today, he was wearing blue, not red. got back on the train, felt bored, and as the train descended towards home, I stayed on, learnt my lesson, from the previous off. the windows covered in veins, like highways of rain. It's 11:03, the train was late. or I was early.
the metro is a dream machine,
lights pulse through dark windows;
colours stretch, tangle,
till they break, phase, fade out.
those high pitched squeals,
squeaks of wheels, wind tunnel
rush and hum of pushing against time.

gliding underground, electric eel,
growls like a metal dragon,
tail bending around corners,
weaving the bends,
hisses like a snake.
jumping out in the half second
before it exhales to a stop.
Written June 2018
JAC Nov 2018
Kiss me in the back of the train
share your tangled headphones

show me your favourite songs
and you can laugh at mine

we won't say anything
I'll let you in.
Stefanos S Nov 2018
Lost in the street I'm going
to get in the future's train
for a better world

Why is so secret the location...?


~Stefanos Stavrianos~
Leocardo Reis Nov 2018
A woman and I sit alone
On a train destined for a seaside cliff.
She is dressed sharply:
a tailored business suit with a matching pencil skirt ending just below her knees,
her hair neatly tied back in a short ponytail
and a hard leather suitcase dangling from her left hand.
To her right, I sit in the seat next to her,
I have dressed accordingly as her counterpart:
a cleanly pressed tuxedo, a jet black tie lingering just above the belt line,
a pair of black leather dress shoes polished to a high shine,
with two envelopes, imprinted with our names, dangling from my right hand.
We look prim, we look stoic,
We look accepting of what is to come
as co-partners in misery.

Occasionally,
as she gazes at something distant,
she starts to tear up
and a portion of her makeup begins to smear at the corner of her eyes,
falling as small droplets of streaking black.
I try not to look
but I slowly affix my left hand on her right thigh
where her right hand comes to meet mine.
Her shoulders shudder
My heart starts to flutter,
We both feel dizzy;
Co-partners in misery.

Doesn’t it seem odd?
We could work so much in just a few years
and achieve completely nothing.
Debt is an odd thing,
to what extent was she willing,
to which extent was I willing,
not that it matters,
all we needed was a good heart in the wrong place
and a co-signed loan,
one for her,
one for me;
all for him.
Debt is an odd thing,
The living may never escape it,
But it shall never catch the dead.

With each passing train stop,
we both get a little bit antsier.
She looks more unsure of our decision,
I look more unsure of our decision,
but the train continues.
Her hands start to sweat,
my feet start to tap nervously,
she begins to bite her lower lip anxiously
I begin to heave a little harder
as the ocean comes into view.
We both tempt each other with worried eyes,
But our clasped hands act to remind
that we are just so very tired.
she may want to go back,
i may want to go back,
but the train continues.

Her eyes are wonderful,
as she stares at me,
they ask a simple question:
Is death forever?
I stare back,
Let’s find out together.

The train stops.

Our hearts drop.

Until next time, perhaps.
L Oct 2018
What good is it to want things.
So much longing.
So little input.
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