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S E L Oct 2013
Setting off a rollicking charge… like a waiting rocket to countdown
Solo pugilist in the ring… lancing darts at butterflies in cloistered air

10…. 9….  8….

Boxed in from all sides… whichever way turning… meets unsettling walls
Notes unseen and unheard… magic windows stripped away… acrylic drips dry

7….   6…..    5….

Tap runs on… letting of foundation-blood…no fear nor fret… yet exacts converse
Gentle persuasion to reach shores… hard credence yet so true… all in good time

4….  3….  2….

One vision
Two hearts
Three kisses..
Forever :)


No countdown needed....ever
Count to one…only
and breathe...
It’s all ok


all in good time...
Tic tic tic
I know it sounds sick
all that tapping on keys
my countdown to my sweet suicide

It's no big deal
for nothing I feel
this body, this flesh
good god 20,000 will do

If you live by the art
die by your art
this is my 9,997
before the gates of heaven

I will push myself to death
promise a utter messy death
glory to dark poetry
my countdown to sweet suicide

The fire burns deep within me
I will not retreat from this
no glance back, no romance
just my countdown to sweet suicide


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

By NeonSolaris

© 2012 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Micah Jan 2015
Every tick is a countdown
for as long as we live
We are all waiting for time to pass
so we can get to that one moment
and that one moment after that
It's all time is and ever will be
a countdown
louis rams Dec 2014
Christmas countdown has begun and family members are on the run
Looking for the bargains everywhere, and how they get it they don’t care.
All the retailers have put up their displays
As they prepare for Christmas day.
Grocery stores and supermarkets with their specials on the floor
And in every aisle there are treats galore.
Turkeys and hams, candied yams too- all the treats just for you.
Department stores and shopping malls- filled with shoppers wall to wall.
The children are in total awe as they look from store to store.
And every new item that’s on TV.  In the stores for them to see.
Yes!  The Christmas countdown has begun. And the children
Are preparing for the fun, from bicycles and dolls and all the rest
Knowing they’ve gotten all the best.
Look around; look around, the Christmas spirit is all around.
MERY CHRISTMAS TO ONE AND ALL, THIS IS THE SEASON TO HAVE A BALL!
©L.RAMS 112214
10.
We walk side by side, wandering around restlessly.

9.
Anxiety and Fear creeps between us.

8.
"Trust? What is trust?"

7.
What is Truth.? Which is a LIE?

6.
I could see your deathly psychopathic gaze, staring me sharply.

5.
The dark comes,  the cold breeze fills in our gap, mysteriously.

4.
You keep flinching and fidgeting your pale blue fingers.

3.
"We can no longer be together"

2.
Define Blood,******,Death

1.
One

0.
Zero,
The End of OUR Lives
Another dark and explicit poem :)
I just keep getting black inspiration for my poems, I guess it's all because of my fear, hatred, and egoist inside me...
Jamie Aug 2014
Yesterday it took me 3 hours to calm down
It was one of our best dates
As I went to sleep and I clutched my pillow
I still felt your hand in mine

This is why I never got over you...
Yet I know I shouldn't get attached
But deep down I know I love you
And we don't have long till you go

This is why, I need to leave after you do
I can't stand living in this city
When I know I will never be happy here
Not without you by my side

Problem is we can't be right now
...
Because we would hold each other back
All your dreams and mine will have to do

I would never want to hold anyone back
From achieving their true potential
Being together would do that to you
If I love you I will let you go and not fight

Although it will **** me when we are apart
I will settle for the happiest I will ever be
For the time we have left
Yet I know it will be a beautiful goodbye

The firery walls are slowly caving in
Yet I am clinging on to every last second
In my head I am holding you and just
Slow dancing in this burning room
Settling for pure joy right now, knowing I will be beaten and very down in a few weeks time. Every second is worth it
Peter J Thomas Mar 2016
The countdown clock is ticking,

We know it tells no lie,

From the moment we are newborn,

It counts down 'til we die.
It's a daylight countdown
like a ten nine eight
who do we appreciate
the darkness of the night

I dismount my dragon Jet Black
for eons I have battled on his back
now I dismount my ride
and place my feet back on land

I pull out my timepieces
I lay them on the ground
and then open a portal
making no light or sound

Daylight countdown
to the realms of my darkness
see I have been most disciplined
by her of many names


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Just ten minutes after I'd revved the engine
I was only nine miles away from the love of my life
Day dreaming of when we’d met just eight short months ago
Soaring at seventy down that country road
Only six more miles until she’d be in my arms again
Five years ago thoughts of love would have seemed so far out of sight
Yet four times I've already proposed, “too soon,” she’d always say
Amazing how in three seconds your entire life can change
With just two tires there’s little room for error
When one blew out I hit the asphalt, hard
In a wreck like that there’s zero chance I’d survive
One hour later the ambulance arrived at last
EMTs pressed two paddles against my chest
Shocks were delivered three times
At the hospital doctors performed four operations
Five months I spent in a coma
Followed by six months of physical therapy relearning to walk
In time all seventeen broken bones had set and healed
It cost me eight grand to buy a new bike
Now nine years later I’m still riding, fearless, wife on the back
The tenth time I asked, she finally said yes
Nicole Dawn Jun 2015
Ten
Tears that fell

Nine
Half hearted oh wells

Eight
Sleepless nights

Seven
Silent screams

Six
Simple scratches

Five
Days left

Four
Depressive thoughts

Three
Anxious ones

Two
Ugly options

One
Last chance

Zero*
No more, she's gone
Jubail Aquino Dec 2018
Another day was gone,
tomorrow is another day down.
...See you soon my beloved hometown!
Baguio City, Philippines - Hometown
Freddy S Zalta Jan 2015
The sun set at its appointed time, 438pm - setting a race towards the end.
Drinks were drunk,
Emotions were triumphed, kisses were exchanged and the moon was flying high.
A swap of fluid and hands were held - the countdown began and the ball it fell.
A kiss goodnight, a sad goodbye, then relief and empty bed, a welcomed sight.
A slow progression towards the rising and at 721am it happened without a warning.
A reset of the timer - from 12/31 to 01/01.
Time to start again and try to enjoy the time that will come.
****** just needed to write
Kelsey Burks Aug 2015
Ten.
These are the worst kinds of nights. The kind where you're gagging on your own breath that's hitching in your throat. The kind where you open your mouth to speak but you can't get those words out. To say them makes them true.
Nine.
The rain pounds against your window pain and the voice inside your head doesn't stop no matter how hard you cover your ears. You're screaming until you feel your throat bleed but you can't shut off the noise inside you. You can't stop the yelling within.
Eight.
You wonder if anyone ever notices your raspberry painted smile never quite reaches your eyes and you wonder if anyone ever wonders why your sleeves are stained red.
Seven.
Cold. You feel so cold like the wind that rattles your bones and you can't remember what it feels like to sit in the sun.
Six.
Rip the things from the walls. Tear off the bed sheets. Shatter the mirrors and blacken your own eyes. The hurricane that's made its home inside you needs destruction to keep on living, but you don't know ******* it.
Five.
you're falling to your knees and ******* it stop crying. Stop! Don't you dare ask for help. Tears and running down your face and you can't make them quit. Crimson runs down your arms with your hands clasped in prayer, you swear you'll never do it again.
Four.
The only thing left in you for now is the hollow feeling. Your thoughts are whirling around the room gaining turbulence.
Three.
Pick it up, rinse it under cold water, tape it up as best as you can. No one told you when you poured your heart out it might fall to the floor and shatter
Two.
if you smile tomorrow no one will know, and you could be beautiful. Honestly. Maybe someone could love you
One.
your thoughts and feelings come rushing back into your body and soul. something breaks deep within you. your whole heart falling down. Irreversibly damaged in 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1
Chloe M Teng Dec 2015
August, I start from one,
The door sounds against the tiles,
You start to leave your undenying presence
Stuck onto the frontlets of my thoughts.

Two, words were spoken few,
But a few human errors & one simple word
You correct my interpretation,
& now you start to interpretate my life.

Three, a fortnight has passed,
My heart embraces to your name,
But soon we will be set apart,
Now to cherish our last days.

Four, the end of August comes our end,
As the door sounds against the tiles again.
But now without you,
Without any interpretation or name.

Five, it's December now.
I'll be waiting & counting down to ten,
Until you come back,
& the door sounds once again.

From, the girl at the smallest corner of your memory.
A simple poem I wrote that finished exactly at 1 in the morning. It's a portrayal of a one sided love that began in an interpretation training on August. The countdown conveys the incompletion of her heart's desires.
Annie McLaughlin Mar 2016
three*
I am dead inside
two
I have no place to hide
one
In death I will abide
Sorry for the ****** poems lately... Doesn't mean Im going to stop writing them, but sorry.
Victor Tripp Dec 2015
It's the final  countdown when buildings and trees on earth
Are falling down. The final countdown when panic and raving madness
Can be found. Rich men and women sitting on their money
With the poor left behind again in life too
And overcast days will be normal  here
And the sun will never shine on us  any more
Tell me brother what will doomed mankind do ?
Spencer Craig Mar 2015
you toss my feelings back and forth like a tennis ball.
It was so asinine to think you cared at all.
you make it out like you wanna meight, but end up stealing
my heart, which isn't condusev in my healing.
You make me six. With me, you didn't have a rival.
I used to think you were necessary for my surfivel.
therefour, from here on, I won't allow you to crush me,
no more threel seeing my reaction when you touch me.
I don't understand people who just get together
to make you think you won and blow you off like a feather.
I half had enough and this topic's not moot,
I have zeroed in on my target and i am ready to shoot.
Impzz Jul 2018
We all have a little tick
a little something that always sticks
and your mouth it moves like clockwork
...since birth
so
countdown days on each finger
our days they are numbered and
outside the mirror ages you
but the face inside it still portrays you now

lose yourself and find it again

if you listen to the wind
you will find yourself within it
and as the night approaches dawn
your mind is here but your bodies gone
so
countdown days on each finger
our days they are numbered and
outside the mirror ages you
but the face inside it still portrays you now
lyrics
They come to say goodbye
yet his corpse can not speak
in the attic they will find all his works
his band tapes and confession in poetry

It was his countdown to freedom
his escape clause so refined
one that he made
so many years ago

He left a note that no tear should be shed
for this being is actually never dead
just time to dress
and into another human being

Each life is his countdown
a thread to his freedom
this is their time to say goodbye
as this entity never dies


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Kingafroninjaa Jan 2012
11:20pm
You kidnapped me and we flew back to your home planet.
I was left speechless as this heavenly body took over my soul.
He tied a martian string around my heart and promised me to stay.
11:30pm
You took me on an adventure across the galaxy that distorted my mind.
I let him guide my body into a meadow of star dust, without any fear of hesitation.
He tightened the martian string around my heart and promised that I will be his forever.
11:40pm
You gently caressed my untamed spirit and helped this earthling experience a new look on life.
I only craved for my eccentric martian, so I feared the day I would have to go back to that dreary planet.
He glared down into my dark brown eyes and promised that I'll be his officially, to have and to hold.
11:50pm
You slowly began to distant yourself from yourself my soul as the days progressed on this martian planet.
I noticed that the string we held tightly around our hearts began to steadily loosen as the nights grew colder.
He turned his back on the earthling he once loved and promised to let me go so he can travel the stars alone.
12:00am
You promise that we would explore the extrasolar worlds together as we floated through the dark abyss.
I believed in his promises, hoping the martian string that bounded our hearts together would remain intact.
He delivered me back to my humdrum planet while untying the same string that we once held so dear.
How I spent my New Years.
Melody W Nov 2012
Days, stretching to infinite proportions,
a gnarled oak, stark white against the cerulean sky,
distorting and twisting within itself,
aching to be complete, still, silent.

Nights, a lone swimmer's watery nightmare,
caught in the depths, darkness yanking feet down,
struggling upward
yearning to break the surface -

Howling and shrieking at an empty door
locked from the outside
to protect trembling walls
housing
nothing.

Is this who we've become?
Mindless drones who've arrived at the future,
cursing the past?

You overtook us swiftly, still trembling with rage,
your vise-like fingers softly caressing,
embracing our fragile necks,
each second drawing us closer to the final countdown,
knowing, but never quite comprehending
that we can never escape your cold lair.

And you -

grinning ironically,
peering down at us,
your playthings,
stumbling through this labyrinth;
blind mice, oblivious to our demise -

you will reveal everything
in Time.
©MW
CGB Aug 2015
5
monkey bars
they were all she could hold on to
when the ground crumbled
beneath her trembling feet

4
swings
they were the metronomes
that conducted her life
so she could stay together

3
slides
they helped her explain
what she was feeling
when everything was moving too fast

2
basketball hoops
they showed her how to do
what other people wanted
to get what she needed

1*
merry-go-round*
that taught her how not to puke
when things wouldn't stop spinning
inside of her head
Life is just a playground full of little children and their games.
Ryan Kane Oct 2016
I no longer walk the line
like Johnny Cash.
I was born into this world
bold and brash,
but I couldn't last.

I'm knocked down,
and unwilling to stand.
A ten count has begun,
and it's almost the end.

"Nine" the referee yells.
Time stands still.
It's the final countdown,
and my blood has began to spill.
(c) Ryan Kane 2016
Twitter @RyanWritesStuff
Bruce Ruston Feb 2015
She came home and said
something like
Hey how you doing
But I didn’t tell her
that I have been
indulging in a
sweet and sour
strawberry string
sadness
there is a living ghost
on Facebook
and I can’t decide if
it is wrong to unfriend
the dead
so that I am not reminded
about the countdown
of my own mortality
or of my family
like a sordid experiment
so she said something
about the weekend
which produces guilt
for a spoil I haven’t committed
in the spot in my mind
that is addicted to
a strawberry string sadness
where Netflix plays
and the dent on my side
of the bed becomes more
pronounced
While I try and decide
about a living ghost
what is wrong and what is
right in this media induced
******* that develops from
beta to final release to a total
sadness 2.0
Sofia Carr Jan 2014
This is the final countdown.
Only seconds are left before the fall.
Nothing I do can slow the seconds
or stop the time.
Everything I do seems to make it go by faster.
I'm stuck in this moment with you,
not wanting it to end.
But nothing you say can stop me.
In a matter of minutes
I'll be gone.
I read the newspaper stained in black
I watch the television covered in blood
I listen to the corrupted comebacks
Coming from the people I used to love

The world holds so much negativity
As I try to escape my own
I cower from the harsh world outside
Counting my reasons to be alone

I was raised to fear the world
Just follow what others say
Continue being the passive wallflower
As I count my reasons to stay

Out there is a world where I fall and fail
While my inner world consumes me
Overstimulated and stressed in all kinds
Desperately searching for peace
Cristin H Aug 2014
My lips were still parted

as I walked heavy hearted
dragging my feet
like darkness,
across a dimly lit street.

I stopped 4 times.

Four times
between the security gates
and the bed
your scent still slept in.

1
You turned to walk away.
I couldn't breathe,
like my lungs had learned
your leaving.

I begged you to turn around,
in whispers,
through heaving.

I wondered if they had run me through
the x ray machine,

the way they did the rest of your baggage,

would they have been able to see it break me.

The rungs of my ribs
collapsing
under each step we took apart.

my heart sinking in my chest,
like treasure.

My hands clenched around each other
if not out of loneliness,
than in prayer
for you,
for yours.

(Walk)

2
I didn't know where I was going
at first,
I thought my moving, madness.
See?
You wouldn't really go.


I didn't make it to the elevator.

Nothing about me in that moment,
could fit into a box
I couldn't be brought down any further
I couldn't watch the doors close
on the only forever I ever had.

Too much symbolism will get to you like that.

The way I see you in
clocks and calendars,
still clinging to a countdown
your watch would stop short of.

I can still hear mine tick.

The way I smell you in
cocoa butter and ocean mist,
our love belonged on a beach
but swam too far from shore.

The way I taste you in
red wine and cigarettes,
I was drunk on your stare,
But you know those things will **** you.

The way I feel you in
poetry and panic,
praying into my palms
until my body felt holy.

Sometimes I write to your God.

(Take the stairs)

3
I'm outside.
The air is lit like a cigarette.
My body,
frayed
like a fuse.

Im bursting at the seems
of a skin that has never quite fit me.
Pounding on the doors of a mind
who can't remember
why?

I recalled every moment
you held forever in your eyelids,
then blinked.
When suddenly it hit me,
what if this time you really meant
goodbye?

I was trapped in wide open space.
Like the ones between my fingers.
like the one growing in my stomach,
like the one on the other side of the bed.

I guess I should have mentioned,
It would **** me if you left.

(walk)

4
I didn't leave a note this time.

But I promise
I had a million words to say to you,

I typed them up,
I wrote them down.
Watching each one
rise at my fingertips
and fall at your feet.

The way I did.

You spoke like family.
You felt like the pages
of my favorite book
when I ran my fingers up your spine.

I kept every note I wrote,
this time.

I couldn't hide another word
in the soft folds of your suitcase.

Secrets never travel well.

(Shhh)

I touched the door you'd touched before me.

Empty rooms are like a boxing ring,
My back was against the ropes
while my eyes fell to the drapes
tracking take-offs like ticket sales.

We packed the house.
Our home.

As time huffed and puffed
and blew the whole thing
down.

I stopped four times.

Each time I'd turn back
but when I started,
I'd remember the last time you left
while I watched, heavy hearted.
My lips were still parted.

Our lips were still parted.
Shane Dec 2012
10 sacrificial exhales
9 regret scented fingertips
8 matriarchal castigations
7 breathes corrupted
6 bummed ember tips
5 second hand coughs
4 derisive stares
3 relapses
2 lungs
1 heart

Parasitic paradise with death in hand
A gift to me,
self receiving
Toxicity imbalanced
*This is worse than bleeding
Brett W Jan 2014
Counting down the final days you may have
I think back to the times we spent together
Those few times where we just sat and laughed
To the time when I sent a surprise birthday letter
Not many memories can be reminisced in my mind
Due to the little time we spent together, before you left
I wish that I can put those few memories on rewind
The future memories taken, unwanted theft
I then fast forward to the times we could spend
But those times may never come, be always gone
But I’m currently doing something I sure don’t recommend
That is, the dying days left, to create your final countdown
Having 1-7 months left for my girlfriend to live, I'm doing something I shouldn't really do... Countdown the final days... I push these thoughts to the back of my mind but when I get bored, lonely, or just am not in the best mood, these thoughts attack my already aching mind. She's too young to pass away... and I'm scared... :(
Anna Louise Feb 2014
Lately our shower has been doing this thing where it shakes when it’s running. But not as soon as it goes on, first there’s a light buzzing in the walls then BOOM not quite like a volcano, but a seizure in the veins of the house. I think it knows I’m about to collapse the same way, too. I feel the buzzing inside of me, somewhere deep down where the emptiness sits. The pressure just builds up, I’m turning from cold to hot in a matter of seconds, and I’m losing the control I had. Maybe our shower just needs to bleed out the **** clogging all the nooks and crannies that nobody can see, maybe it’s freezing over somewhere in it’s bones, maybe it’s just crying out in its own, solitary way. Everybody uses it, washing off the dirt they’ve accumulated through their nightmares and the dark nights, warming their bodies to prepare for the frigid pulse of life outside these four walls. Everybody uses it but nobody knows what’s wrong with it. It’s been like this for weeks. The repair man said it should be fine soon. The professional should know, we say. It’s becoming an inconvenience, you know. We don’t like the rattling, we don’t know when it will burst. Still, everybody uses it. We have a countdown, the shower and I. Who will go first, who will shake the longest until we collapse, how many people will use us until we’re used up.
Hana Gabrielle Dec 2013
How about
we explore
and expose
the underbelly
of our drunken tongues

I want to fall in love
with your ugly
and
forget why
once morning has begun
Asphyxiophilia Jul 2013
It's 3 am and you're restless again. Your thoughts wander briskly through the fields of memories of him and you find yourself picking each one and holding it delicately in your palm. The lights from the streetlamps outside your window peek through the blinds and illuminate synthetic stars onto your ceiling which you count like each kiss he ever placed on your cheek. Your legs are wrapped up in your sheets like the way they used to tangle around his ankles every evening. You roll onto your side and attempt to close your eyes once more, calling out to a peaceful slumber that has been evading you for weeks when suddenly, you hear a whistle in the distance. You open your eyes again to see the stars growing into spotlights that threaten to swallow you like black holes, but without the mystery. You immediately grab your wrists out of fear that you unconsciously took a blade to them but you are greeted by scars that have been forming for approximately three years (and eleven months). Your heart threatens to pound its fist through your chest as you slowly turn to see what the source of the light is. Just as your shoulders align with your mattress, a man steps from what appears to be a train engine and greets you with a nod of his head.
"Good evening, sleeping beauty," he begins sweetly, "I have come to extend an invitation to the night train."
You bring your hands to your eyes and attempt to wipe the hallucination away from your vision but when you open them again, you see the man gazing intently.
"It is my understanding that this is your first meeting with the night train," he states as he waits for you to supply an answer.
You nod your head.
"Well, my dear, the night train is here to offer a sweet elixir to cure this sleepless evening. You see, the night train's purpose is to supply the recipient ("that's you," he says behind his hand) exactly twenty minutes of time spent anywhere of their choosing. And then, once the time is up, the recipient must board the train once more, and will be met with approximately eight hours of uninterrupted slumber." He pauses as an assurance that you are following along, so you nod your head slightly. "However, the catch, you see, is that if the recipient does not board the train at the end of the twenty minutes, they will find themselves trapped in a restless oblivion with the promise of never again finding the comfort of sleep." A slight smile tugs at his lips as he tilts his head out of sympathy. "This may not seem to be much of a threat considering you are currently wrapped up tightly in your bed, but I assure you it will be tempting to remain within the place of your choosing, despite the whistle of the night train."
Unsure of what else to do, you nod your head once more.
"Alas, now we must be on our way, because the countdown begins in exactly three minutes! So I urge you to think quickly of where you would like to be taken!"
As though the train has suddenly run into your chest, the meaning of the opportunity that has been placed in front of you knocks the wind out of you. Before the conductor even finished his sentence, you knew exactly where you wanted to go, so you swing your legs to the side of the bed and push yourself upright.
"I would like to be taken to July 13th at precisely 2:32 in the morning," you say quickly as you flatten your restless hair to your head and straighten the t-shirt you are wearing.
"Very well, very well. Now board the train, my dear. And we'll be off to the morning of July 13th, but I urge you not to forget your time limit of twenty minutes!" He places his hand on your back and ushers you into the train, guiding you to a red velvet seat lined with golden stitching. Once you are comfortable, he disappears into the cabin and blows the whistle before pulling out of the station that is your bedroom.
With no warning at all, you feel a tightening in the pit of your stomach and before you even have time to clench, you are sitting on a rooftop overlooking a vibrant city.
"I just don't know anymore. It's like- It's like everything I once knew has been flipped upside-down and I'm just expected to be okay with it. But I'm not."
You blink a few times in an effort to adjust to the sudden deja-vu that causes your head to swim in the memory of an evening you have constantly waded in.
He is sitting with one leg tucked beneath him and the other dangling over the edge, as though even his limbs can't decide whether they want to take the fatal plunge or not. His hair was always absent of color, the kind of black that made you question the material of the universe because even the night sky couldn't compare to the degree of darkness; but it seemed to be doing just that as it laid haphazardly across his pale forehead. His bony fingers are clutching a nearly empty bottle of gin which he brings to his lips between sentences. He continues speaking as though you didn't just appear out of thin air beside him.
"My mum doesn't even pretend to understand anymore. I've heard her mention boarding school at least three times this week, despite my constant refusal to even speak of it. She knows the walls in the apartment are paper thin, so I know she brings it up because she knows I can hear it. But I don't want to hear it."
You notice the vacant look in his eyes as he stares into the horizon, like a hotel room that has been emptied of every belonging, including the light bulbs. He uses his free hand to adjust the collar of his leather jacket before taking another swig of the gin.
"I just can't stay there anymore, and she knows that. Deep down, she knows I can't stay there now that he's gone. I just can't."
His voice is as hollow as his chest as he uses his tongue to wet his lips before turning his head slightly to look at you.
"I wish you could come with me, I really do. It would be quite the adventure, the kind that we used to dream of having. But I can only afford one ticket out of town."
He places the bottle on the ledge, dangerously close to the edge, before resting his sweaty palm on your exposed thigh. His eyes travel from your legs to your forehead, and he leans forward to place a kiss on it, but he misses and falls into your lips. Just like before, your hands land on either side of his face, catching him before he falls completely, and you suddenly find yourself exploring the warm cavern of his vulnerability. His tongue swirls around your own and you taste the bite of the alcohol on his breath but this is the moment you have always craved so you soak up every bit of it. He pulls away just as your heart starts to tremble, and he wipes his mouth with his sleeve before picking the bottle up again and stealing a drink.
"I wish you could come with me," he says again, his eyes now focused on the street below. "But I fear I can only afford one ticket out of town."
Just then, you hear a whistle, but the timing isn't right. This is the moment you would have died to change, and now you've been given a second opportunity, but you can feel it slipping away.
You lean towards him, softly placing your hand on his arm.
"Come with me. We can go anywhere in the world that you please, and I promise it'll be better than here or there if we're together. Because I can't go where you're going, because I can't pay that price, but I want to go away with you, I do."
You search his empty expression, hoping to grab some string of familiarity that you can use to pull him back to reality, but his eyes are locked on the parallel lines beneath.
The whistle grows louder, this time stinging your eardrums, and you know that your time is running short, but you can't let him go.
"You don't have to go back to your apartment, you don't have to go back to your mum. We can runaway tonight, together. You and me, just the way it was always meant to be."
Your voice is shaking and desperate, getting louder with each word that you speak as the whistle blows from behind you, threatening to leave.
Just then, a hand falls upon your shoulder, and for a second you allow yourself to glance over, and it is in that second that the body before you tips over the rooftop's edge. Your heart falls like a weight in your stomach, just like on the evening this event first occurred, anchoring you to the cement and preventing you from going after him. The conductor who now stands behind you grabs your torso and pulls you backwards as you scream his name into the night sky. You kick against his hold as he drags you back onto the train and into the velvet seat again.
This time, you were unable to hear his body land on the pavement.
This time, you weren't able to look down and see his hands lying ten feet away from the rest of his body.
This time, you didn't get to perch on the edge and contemplate for hours joining him.
This time, you couldn't blame yourself for being speechless, for letting him be the star of his shining moment, because you attempted to be his Juliet.
You didn't realize you were still screaming until the conductor grabbed your shoulders with his hands and shook you quickly.
"Quiet my dear, I fear it is time to go. And I was unwilling to allow you to remain any longer, but I fear you will only be receiving six hours of peaceful slumber."
You look at him sternly, unsure how he can continue to speak of this ****** night train and its guidelines after you just watched the love of your life commit suicide for the second time.
You take a deep breath before speaking, "I don't understand the point of this, why bring me here if I couldn't change anything? Why allow me to relive this if it didn't make a difference?"
He smiles sympathetically before beginning, "oh but it did. You see, for three and a half years you have been tossing and turning, wondering what you would have done differently and if you would have been able to change it. But you see, the past isn't something that can be changed. It can only be relived again and again within the minds of those who continue to contain it, and the pain of the past and the memories that come along with it will feel just as real as the day they happened if you continue to dwell on them. Eventually you will see that tonight made a significant difference, because you were finally able to recreate the scenario that you always dreamed."
Your mind is running at a faster speed than the train as it makes its way back to your bedroom, and you can't seem to comprehend what the conductor is saying.
"So you're telling me that the whole reason behind this was to show me that he was going to die whether or not I tried to convince him otherwise?"
He places a gentle hand on your shaking shoulder and replies, "the reason behind this was to allow you to finally put the past behind you and grant yourself the pleasure of peaceful slumber. Because you see, my dear, there is no such thing as the night train. It is merely a figment of your imagination. Deep inside you, you realize that nothing you said could have changed that night, but you needed to dream another possibility in order to believe it. Now believe it."
"But I-" you begin to speak but in the blink of an eye, you're suddenly sitting on the side of your bed, your shoulders no longer shaking. You blink again, trying to make sense of everything. You bring your hands to your face and feel your cheeks, reassuring yourself that you still exist. You look around once more, noticing the stars upon your ceiling twinkling as though they are winking at you like the conductor of a mysterious night train. But you realize that you are in your bedroom, in your t-shirt, as though you never moved beyond that point. And you find that you're unsure whether it was all a dream, or whether you really did go for a ride on a night train, but you decide to lie back down and attempt to sleep anyways.
And six hours later, you find yourself awaking from a very peaceful slumber.
B J Clement Jun 2014
So that was what all the mystery was about! and the reason why we were kept in the dark, Task Force Antler was set up to test Atomic weapons!
I don't think Gordon and me had missed anything exciting, the early days of the task force were just a matter of preparation for the real events that were to come later. The tests were scheduled to take place in October and November, It was rumoured that we would be home for Christmas!
I was impatient to get back home, I worried about my dad's poor health.
I was beginning to put a bit of weight on now, after the spell in hospital,
The food was excellent. There were some Aussies stationed on the camp perimiter, they lived in air conditioned  aluminium units,
we of course,(being British,) roasted and froze on a daily basis, and thought little about it! The days passed quite slowly at first, until we were ready to carry out the first test, It was on a site forty five miles away. We were all assembled on the day of the test. We all wore our sunglasses, and were assembled for the countdown, If memory serves me right it was supposed to be a seventy two hour countdown, but I think the catering staff may have been excused some of it. We all needed to eat, after all!  The first test was like a damp squib, we hardly noticed it. It consisted of a little thunder and a cloud of black smoke. Rumour had it that the touch-paper was damp!
After a week or two the second test loomed. This was much bigger but less than we had expected, both  of the atomic devices had been mounted on towers, the next and final test was to be the biggest.
They asked for volunteers to observe the test from a roadside position some six miles from ground zero, forty five men out of six hundred plus volunteered, I was one of them! Maybe you can work out the percentage ratio, idiots to normal cautious men, It might prove useful to the military. On the day of the test, we were transported up to the roadside position where we began the countdown linked by radio to the headquarters. Half an hour before ground zero, several wagons  full of troops left the forward area. The corporal in charge radioed headquarters, "Has the test been cancelled?"  "No hold your ground, the test is imminent, you know the drill- we are commencing the final countdown."
It was rumoured that there were a number of soldiers in the forward area, in slit trenches, An officer told me later that Dr. William Penney, the chief scientist in charge of the whole test, did a quick calculation on the back of his *** packet, and said "This may be bigger than we expect!
Better bring those troops out of the trenches." It was certainly a wise decision,(probably the only one,ha ha.) We were now the nearest to the bomb! The bomb- or device, was suspended in plain sight, hanging under three barage balloons, (I kid you not),  which were tethered about one hundred and fifty feet above the  desert. The count down continued, Ten, Nine, eight,!!!!
PJ Poesy Dec 2015
As molecules of cellophane and plastic plate mix with cheesy mire of microwaveable dinner, I make excuse in my mind and apologize to my already over-compromised liver. It's simpler this way, or at least excusable for this moment. 56 dead in Garland, Texas, I think I can be thankful a tornado has not turned my world upside down, whilst biting down on tv dinner rations. Still I think, can 2015 end any faster? These last few days counting down and the microwave's digital display bleeping, sludge discriminating who shall be taken. It's all so guarded and circumspect. Please, if there be an element of good, may the new year know it.
It's been a rough one.

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