scrapin the tinge of tomorrows cinder and ashe, began to be habit forming for me.
My skin held the dark coal litter-marks, tightly,
waning in the autumn light peering through the window.

I see the "others"
they look just like me,
as they take beautiful grimm faces and dapper
minstrel smiles in front of their teeth
of malcontent.

A slender jane approached my portion of the boxcar
and laid her feelings down as a thinly
worn out quilt, giving her some comfort on the dusty floor.

She took out a real piece of inspiration
and placed it neatly on her fork and spied
brick-brown eyes around the room

She locked eyes with mine like railcars,
speeding to everywhere, no-time soon
and gestured for me to take a bite
of inspiration,

It tasted like my mommas meatloaf

I wiped my, now full soul, and asked this Jane girl
"Where do we go from here?" and if she knew if the
"Others" like us were coming too...

She said we'll stop when we get there,
but we aint stoppin no time soon.



Peace in, instead of Peace out

________________________________________
"With peace and love in my lungs,
I hold my breath until the Poet returns."

--Boxcarboys