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I drift behind eyelids to a landscape beyond surreal.
Somewhere parrallel, in the underground of nerves, real and unreal dissolving.
Blanketed in transparency, passengers sit on moving trains; inside is still and unmoving.
Makes wide-eyed passengers pace up and down the aisles trying to force immovable doors, then squash their faces against the windows, distorted, disturbed.
Looking out at me waving, their teardrops about to let go of rusting faucets.
Licorice straps of tracks melt a single collective track, destination set.
My silhouette against a platform of graffiti shadows speaks from a different kind of clarity and disorder.
Breathed upon the world I am, freer, the big in the little thing.
Sighed by passengers by, but a breath of fresh air to those who alight.
R.T.M 16/11/05
Somewhere parrallel, in the underground of nerves, real and unreal dissolving.
Blanketed in transparency, passengers sit on moving trains; inside is still and unmoving.
Makes wide-eyed passengers pace up and down the aisles trying to force immovable doors, then squash their faces against the windows, distorted, disturbed.
Looking out at me waving, their teardrops about to let go of rusting faucets.
Licorice straps of tracks melt a single collective track, destination set.
My silhouette against a platform of graffiti shadows speaks from a different kind of clarity and disorder.
Breathed upon the world I am, freer, the big in the little thing.
Sighed by passengers by, but a breath of fresh air to those who alight.
R.T.M 16/11/05
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