Day One Hundred and Twenty Seven: Untitled

In the quiet calm of the night
Through a cracked window,
Comes the sound of trains
Thundering to and fro in the distance.

At all hours they waltz across bridges
toward the nest of Central Station.
The electric lines hiss as they fall back
dancing to the same mechanical rhythm.

Destination unknown,
Passengers anonymous,
Creeping and slithering under the moonlight’s gaze
slinking noisily off into the night.

Like rattlesnakes they slide at varying speeds
taking their cargo with them.
Where do they go? Only they themselves know,
Powered by electric venom.

It is not a sound that lulls one to sleep.
The shuddering and juddering, cracking, battering and banging
Over rusty olden bridges, that never seem to fall
under the weight of the passengers intentions.

And I still can’t sleep

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