Train writ: express train
7:30AM departure, Tuesday, November 10th, 2009; on the train from Bramalea to Toronto’s Union Station, Georgetown train express to Union Station; 28 minute train ride, arrival at 7:58AM.
express train
tired in a makeshift spike on my head and cramped spaces. sleepy, with no instance of sleep. fast forward the scenery a little, it’s time to ride the express lane.
so much rush to the big bad city, all to end up where you least want to be. what a sad, unmoving life in this fast lane.
i can love every night – and i wad mad fot unknown reasons, confused in these cycle of days – but the day is the infusium of the mudane with makeshift dreams in makeshift jobs, drinking makeshift coffee and walking makeshift roads, breathing makeahift air. vacations do nothing for me unless it’s a vacation with you.
parcels don’t make it down where you live, at least with condiments and compliments. but a care package will arrive even if it’s not from me, so tread under your real vigilance in life. don’t fool yourself.
on this express train, thr nausea sets in with the lack of sleep. how i long to leave this vicious, viscous life, so tired to not realising what passes by but still obtain the knowledge somehow. oh, how naive to think i’d be a scholar, i can’t even type right. thank god i don’t drive. yet.
you watch me, and i’m just the kid in the brown jacket. and that’s all i am – a kid in a brown jacket, but a kid that scoffs at your life on the express as much as mine.
every morning, every evening. did the creators really intend to create such boring lifeforms? such a pervert is he or she to impose laws on our biology and work. surely there’s more to life than this.
what happened to the life of art? our only unique utility in life sans the manufacturing animalism. why do we see none?
loveless as i might have been, i never realised art was such an important part of living.
so you’re all wrong, government and facists alike. some of us want to live human than robots. the sky gets greyer with your presence. spew your blasphemy now – just try it – and i’ll tear you a new one.
express on, express off. the train makes these thoughts less sense.