Finding myself once again standing out on the platform at the station in the heat, and I am waiting in whatever shade that can be found for that last train that’s soon heading out, as I can feel both the temperature and the humidity rising as the sun’s dark light pounds down. And now as I look through my dark glasses at the rails nearby that seem to burn with white hot intensity, has me stop and reflect on all those things that recently happened and if I truly matter at all? Or if all that I said was unheard with the words falling from me to lie in the dust at my feet? And having the feeling of being used as a pawn and played for a fool in someone’s game.

Waiting patiently as those thoughts pass through when a moment of pure silence hits, and being almost able to hear myself sweat as I wonder if I will soon lie in and under the earth where the forgotten lie? And feeling too, as if I have wasted half or more of my life and at times gotten what was truly deserved. For I am just tired of all the lies and constant games played by those self proclaimed saints quick to judge, and by simply closing my eyes and knowing what connections have been cut and should have been cut long ago, along with seeing those allies who swore to be true and showed colours that were false.

As I look down the tracks hoping to hear the sound of those heavy diesels coming soon, so I can answer the call of those distant roads like I have whenever that old Highway 61 has called to me, and knowing that whenever those calls are answered that eventually everyone dies and not all truly live. And I know that just surviving can also become it’s own form of a lingering death sentence. With me now being like some kind of a wandering ghost as both reason and insanity become the same, and find myself asking that when my body is finally buried that my soul doesn’t get buried too.

Now hearing the rumbling of those heavy diesels approaching to come take me away, having miles to go before I finally give up the ghost and I shouldn’t have to think twice, even though it seems most times as if I am standing here watching from the dark-side of the road. As if I have been either walking through a wasteland or been a ghost in the machinery as if faith was lost, and shattered, and being like I have been swallowed up and lost in what was the truth which added up to be just another lie. And now boarding the train as I once again commit my spirit to be tested.

As I look out passing all those familiar worn-out places along with those tumbled down farms and shacks, and watching those things passing by as though they are just reflections of life in my eyes. Knowing that we all start with fire and gradually those flames die leaving smoldering ashes as time moves on, just like a river that flows to a distant shore to the sea.

Feeling the rhythmic swaying of the car as I hear the clicking wheels telling me to relax, and knowing that sleep by itself would do wonders as I feel as though I have had an unending anxiety attack; like when I had been hit by those cold roses making me want to just sit on the floor in the dark once again. Still I am feeling like nothing matters and all being lost yet faith and hope remain.

Copyright June / July 2008 – 7 : Timberwolf International LTD.