Our loneliness kills

In this carriage between platforms, how far will you travel not to return?

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Nobody looks on a subway train. Each day our loneliness lies and kills the room where truth sits in our hearts.

Nobody looks on a subway train  – they look up and then look down.

On a subway train I find my perfect concealment for nobody looks on a subway train.

Nobody looks for the beaded cling film above my lips, or the subway-sulphur-stench, the acrid miasma of a predator in waiting.

Beads of sweat stream from my ears to my tongue, an inherited trait not unlike that of your desert lizards. Theirs built to compensate against searing heat and lack of moisture, mine the same, but with you shivering blue lipped and drenched before me, I rejoice.

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For all your awkward shivering, your smile cleaves a path towards me, its glimmer armed from a lifetime of exceeding the parochial aspirations of others. Tears undress the beat up pretty from your face, but your smile, your smile hurts people.

     ”Ten thousand and hes’s dead”, you say.

In your eyes, to survive you expect my retreat, but I stay.

In my eyes, to survive you must retreat, but you stay.

monica

 ‘I smell weird’ you say.

My tongue worms from side to side, then smothers my lips thickening in my throat.

I am these things and more” I say. 

There’s weird and there’s smell weird and there are many freaks in here, and I am all these things and more, I say.

 

 

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All images with many thanks to Pinterest.
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