Saturday, October 17, 2015

Thurs. Dover 8:02 train pm 3-16-2006

I felt the draft from the stairwell
a cold night without air
nails needed to be cut
toes frozen
face chapped
windburn on my ears and nose
it seems possible
that I could survive
the rest of my life alone
home is a four letter word.

My looks never cease to make peace with my eyes
a long dungeon corridor I’m walking down
the night is so black
thick hardened walls
you couldn’t put a bullet through it
the heart beats enough for me to check the time peer around keep 
my distance from the other side of the street
but I pass by a mirror and like a vampire I am invisible
and strangers and lovers pass right through like shadows
but unlike my shadow
nobody follows me.

My hair is being pulled out and tangled by the wind
my eyeglasses are no longer of use
I recollect people in my head as if they were already deceased
I always think one of my old friends must be dead
because they lived like fugitives from natural
family/home/school/life circumstances
and I never forget that once I was a ticking bomb
but I was more misshapen
I didn’t make ticking sounds
I was like an undercover reporter 
who lived in the war with everyone else 
but I was the one always taking notes
I don’t know how I would find any of them now.

The street lamps are the only light that doesn’t hit me harshly
I feel electric as I stand under and let my hair be radiated 
and the illumination on my face 
is the only makeup I have on
but no one is there to document my moment of being an angel  
I walk home and I know I will not tell anyone about this dream.