Beside the smoking Grey at the astral trainstop.....

The rain glared through streak-ridden glass;

dappling light and grey.

Long it's been since my bag was packed,

and long passed has the day. 

The walls bent and frowned some, 

and sagged stood the door,

Lonesome sighed the trainstop clock,

who longed for something more.


But now, the time, and the weather was right,

and spider-webbed strung the sulfer match-light

against bundles of dried leaves rolled tight,

at the lips of the cold grey. 

"The train comes in, and the train goes out, yet you sit here by the day." 


Alas, I heard it's metallic gasps,

through pelted sheen of silver glass,

iron lungs expelling masses,

plumes of obsidian blasts. 



"Familiarity is, and familiarity so...

though it beckons me, I cannot go.

You see, I've lost my way-

The time has passed, I seem to forget,

and my mind has frozen away." 


Though starlight shattered broken orbs,

against my back and the Perfect Forms',

suspended here, forever more,

craving the missing ticket. 


An eternal being, seated by side,

a very small blob who seemed to hide,

within a cape of stars.  

But now, the time and weather was right,

and spider-webbed strung the sulfer match-light,

a rumbling came in the dead of the night,

somewhere in the golden distance,

with the sighing of metallic lungs,

yet the small-being's soul rang with resistance. 


This loophole that replays in many different tongues, the missing ticket forever on....



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