Words.

End Ride
These are sad lines that I write tonight
as I hurtle my way home on this mass
commuter train that trails through the
suburban jungle of my democratic nation.
No one around me smiles, no one talks at
all, all look away into some created
distance far enough not to be touched by
anyone, not even themselves.
Some sleep. Some grab at their chins.
Some cross their legs. Many fold their arms.
On the left side of me a baby wails
on the right side of me a baby wails
yes they’re unsatisfied, just like everyone else,
the babies know in them they’ve been born
to die. The drive towards death.
Everyone’s thinking, I see the frowns that
they wear on their faces. It’s evident,
they know that they are being flung
towards an end when they know not.
I’m taking this all in, soaking up the
pleasure of sadness, to put all these in
words. Yes, we’re all fucked, whether we like it or not.