On The Tracks
Once a week a train steams towards me, as I lay broken on the tracks
I see it coming from 4 days away
Can I muster up the energy to roll out of it's path again?
The train and the shame of what I've sowed relentlessly approach
Carriages of poverty, of selfish accrual, of addiction
Carriages of excess, of illness, of unwanted existence
Can I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the passing, glinting windows as the wheels cut through me?
Could I bare to?
Can I ever rid my nose of the smell of steam, the smell of shame, the shame of the train that I placed on the tracks
My fingers dig into the mud, gripping the earth in the desperate hopes of absolution
None comes, none exists, all that arrives is the train
Too fearful to stay, too fearful to go, i roll down from the tracks, into a damp and stinking ditch
The stench of the train of rage lingers, the embittered, screaming steam whistle echoes and torments
In the ditch I wait until it's time to climb back up, for a weekend in the sun and a week on the run and to lay my body across the tracks
Staring up at the stars and pretending I'm one. Blanket me in the pitch black, fire me into the abyss of space and watch me shine
Lying, broken again, waiting for my train
The commute that I can't finish, the commute that goes nowhere but a ditch, curled in a ball with the roachs and the rats
Waiting for my train. My train
Every bolt, every rivet, every panel designed by me. I am the engine. I am the creator. I am god. I am the god of lying in a ditch, waiting for my train
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This poem was written during a period of reflection on a very dark and shame-filled period of my life, during which I was a heavy user & dealer of cocaine. The train represents each approaching weekend during which I'd sell, I hated myself then for what I did and in this poem I very clearly express that shame and self-disdain