wound up on the tracks of a train
curious to see the fascination
that comes about with train wrecks being synonymous
to the human condition at muddled, dangerous points
in time, the upheaval becomes disrupted
by revolutionaries or an invisible hand
smoothing itself out and soothing the audience
perhaps with half-truths
perhaps with whole-hearted lies
in your tiny rooms
your ears perking up at the television
hoping to hear the good news firsthand
face masked by static, by contrast, by color
a reflection of you lie on the screen
as the noise sucks away at your soul
everything seems stagnant,
as if normalcy has returned
you'll believe, you'll live
with a chip tucked under your sleeve
scratch at it all you want,
they know you'll be none the wiser
I can hear the clang of the engine
the bursting sparks of coal that light the way
the fragments of sheared metal darting away due to heat
I feel the ground beneath me roar, quake and shatter
and the last thing I recall was absolute,
it was pure, it wasn't even black, it wasn't even..
