the air caught in the
turbulence alongside the train
smells of dogshit

the clouds and light that
paint the evening sky did
a wonderful job tonight

safe from penetration
my ideas hide in the
darkness of my skull

there used to be
a time when my mail
was delivered to me

today one of
the living dead
spoke to me

a jarmusch character
seems unreal
in full colour

this trail proves
that roots don't necessarily
have to be underground

is there anyone
among the rolling guards
who doesn't smoke?

with this allergy
i need to learn to operate
on low oxygen supply

don't think anything's there forever
because one day
it will be gone