Railway parade

I learnt to count to 26.
In lies, ceiling fixtures and flesh.
The numbers just stopped.
I guess.
Lips and tongue form kiss.

We had no right.
They said.
This absurdity.
Empty lots, exploding toilets.
The abstraction of love - now dead.
An unprecedented wealth in numbers.
A train of strangers.
Passing.
Always passing, fulfilled lives buy-
a complacent piece.
Medicated.
Romantic setting, burning beach.
A moment or two of innocence.
Emptiness, when we leave.

These walls now built
hold nothing.
Train tracks for scars
seek oblivion.
Everything must go -
breathe often.

Lay alone.

Always.