In this carriage between platforms, how far will you travel not to return?
Nobody looks on a subway train. In a carriage you stand packed with your loneliness, where you jostle and touch without introduction. Each one of you escaping hello.
Nobody looks on a subway train – you look up and then look down.
For if you looked on a subway train you would see me then, my hunger waiting.
Nobody looks for the beaded cling film above my lips, or the tell of 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 for survival against the searing heat and a desert lack of moisture.
As Is mine. But as you shiver blue lipped before me, I rejoice. For I feast in times of plenty and that time is now.
But it’s your belief that you are a worthy opponent that entices me. All your awkward shivering a guise, you think. Your smile cleaves a path towards me, armed from a lifetime of exceeding the parochial aspirations of others. Tears undress the beat up pretty from your face, but your smile – your armoury – your smile hurts people.
”Ten thousand, hes’s dead”, you say.
You expect my retreat and I stay.
To survive you must retreat, but you stay.
‘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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