Train

The train of mistrust

the only thing you can trust 

is the fall and the vertigo

and lateness.

Empty breathing train 

crowds of people inside

no faces 

no names

all husks

just like you.

The twisting train

mirrored door 

on each end of hallway

(or is it endless?)

(please don't let it be endless.)

It twists in loneliness

it can't be derailed or stopped

it breathes

and undulates

and stays the same

falling 

all-seeing train  cutting the sky.

The train is static.

All the world moves around it.

It stays the same with all faceless husks

and you wearing someone else's face.

You want to see one person with a face

angry while resting

angry while smiling

beautiful

her own.

But the train elongates

and her home is nowhere near the tracks. 

You stand up and you walk

in the endless corridor.

The doors are hard to move.

The train of mistrust,

no face to trust,

and you walk by the old men

seeing and judging

all two and a half century old

all judged back.

The train of mistrust

no one to trust

grinds to a halt

a break for window

she waits for you.

 

Stop.