every moment thinking...
every moment thinking 'how could this be?'
picturing my perfect death
the celebrations following the event
slivers of wood puncture all my internal organs
flood of blood tearing from my sight marbles
my skull used as a fountain
the open wound pours all the liquids in the streets
'poor, poor soul' they say as they walk over
urchins cup liquids from the fountain
slowly put to their lips... they can taste the sin
[but mostly iron]
dying white blood cells travel to a new body
a brand new source
the cobblestone broke my jaw
releasing bits of bone & flesh
as the dreams i once had become broken
'i'm so sorry! I'M SO SORRY!'
screams my cold body, as all its contents empties
i die &wait for the train to pick me up.
my soul leaves as narcissism kicks in
trust me no soul wants a body so bloodied
technology can't even help me now!
on the train, my corpse will be driving
the cargo being all the lost souls
'the souls left for dead need to wait for the next train!'
the tracks aren't metal, anylonger,