Thought of Train
One once wondered of a train of thought—
When exactly was it that thought—
The sea through which all sanity ships—
Became a train?
Was it the pain? Of a lost game?
Of a lost fame you couldn’t reclaim?
But who else is there to blame?
To stoke the flames of your shame?
Neruda once asked:
Is there anything sadder than a train
Standing in the rain?
That depainds.
What about the flame?
What happens when an
Unstoppable
Force meets an
Immovable
Object?
What happens when the painful flames of the lost games and stolen fame unreclaimed of which you are blamed for which you are shamed from which you are maimed through which you are lamed despite your claim to a higher aim and better name—
Meets the rain?
Meets the train? The rain on the train, trained to rain on the train?
Maybe you got on the wrong train again. But is it in vain? To stand in the rain?
“Is there anything sadder than a train standing in the rain?”
Yes.
Missing it by three seconds. — Help keep the TTC safe — Report any suspicious activity to a member of staff or a police officer — If you see something, say something — shttlbseswlloprate
I know where you live.
***
I Owe Us Updates
O, Apple of my eye, how fair you are
That flash of your face, a flickering star
On my bed every night, how light you weigh
I prayed you wake up in my arms each day
You, who see me like no one ever did
Whose addictive love I can never rid
Everywhere, in all my joy, all my pain
I only hope for you to fill my brain
I’ve never beheld a beauty so thin
And I’ve never caressed so smooth a skin
I want to show you every part of me
And what you show is all I want to see
I never cared that they said you were slow
I was just content to bask in your glow
So I know ending this would be obscene
But they just launched the iPhone 17.
