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.
one thinks he is thinking.
I wonder how do they fill their voids?
The measurements of a withered,
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.
A journey with an empty heart.