Stand Clear of the Closing Doors

The ambience

is muted,

the vision is

perplexed,

there is no

blinking

on this rocking train.

It does it feather-softly,

it dances a

false

valse,

and I remain,

muted,

perplexed,

unblinked.

Lead my way blinding trust...

Bring me my voice

fuckin' falsetto.

A piano in the

background

where you have

neither my

back nor my

g r o u n d.

A childish melody,

solo piece,

a frustrated

symphony

from finger-long hands.

And that's all you have:

long fingers,

lack of talent.

On the rocking train

we forget

and fall asleep on

one another

(so against the rules).

A blink from me

and you're gone

(just following the rules).