En route.

Stuck in a half-darkened carriage,
my eyes – angry for keeping them open
my heart – ceasing questions in muteness
and louder beats.

I hide myself under the seat
behind other people’s small and ugly gestures.
Someone’s watching
someone’s sleeping
one thinks he is thinking.
I wonder how do they fill their voids?

The measurements of a withered,
touch –
they over-weight,
forbid my arrival.

It’s fast. Endless.
Monotonous in its changes
unshakable in its turns
a torture for the zipped lips.

All I see is thousands of empty eyes –
I get lost digging into the vain.
That’s the way life is.
Fast boardings
estranged lovers,
A journey with an empty heart.

One thought on “En route.

  1. We’re in constant transition, aren’t we?
    Sometimes faster or slower and the ones we cross the world-space with change
    But I often question how much we ever change, for better or worse
    There’s no going back – but this doesn’t mean one shouldn’t wear a proverbial seatbelt
    Succumb to gravity or decide to work with it; whatever reduces unnecessary risks along the way

    “Game of Thrones” – Season 1
    TYRION: “Are you immune to pain?”
    SHAE: “Just used to it.”

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