Quiet and hooded, his eyes stared out, small hands
Make patterns on the window. Body shifting on wood
Dog outside the door, flickering memories as trains
Maneuver in the old men's eyes. Forever part of a sleep-
Ing world, waiting for him to come. Lost dreams of
Childhood forgotten like hope. These lives are grey
Stones made for cemeteries, this time the victim is
Desired, like misery. He stepped down from the train
Dust on road and clothes, across the way a boy was
Grinning, hard-on obvious in torn grey trousers
Inherited from an earlier victim of the white horse
Filing past the flowers and signs full of dreams
Light of night filtering where woof tiles slipped
Into that darkness. Each ritual makes demand, a hope-
Less coil of expensive d**h affirming our exeistence
The direction never changes, never falters. Along
Those derelict lines lines to journey's end. Small hands
Smear juice on flesh squeezing tight crinkling of
Skin against worn eyes. There is no need of light
Somewhere, in the secret cathedral, small movements
The whole area covered in sheets of snow, pitted by
Huts. He had no expectations, there was no reason
Breathing short as the text on the wall. Whenever the
Dog moved, the night trembled, shimmering like water
Moved by leaves in a forest. Marks of cold spray in
The dust, as in the future faded by choice. Our appetite
For miracles is not enough. Here, only animals
Remain, immaculate, seduced by pain. Ending fear into
Specters of welcome. Floor stained with patients. The
Moment of least action. He moved like a rat in rubble
Toward the sheets of snow, awake and empty, like an
Old house, the place where all dreams meet. "He was
Grinning before he jumped"
Las night the boy came. Open arms. Black hair
Strong. Empty pale face. A volunteer. Unsure of why
He came. Seduced by pain. A faded painting. Waiting
For release, he blinked, looked up at the ceiling
Let out a tiny gasp praying for oblivion
No engines anymoore. The machine engine's stopped. No
Ghosts of d**h playing in the gra**. Just simple, as
You would expect. No physical core. No smiles of love
From pitted carriages. Just an empty town. Derelict
No way to identify. Sound playing across skin like
Fingers. Just as ampty as flesh. What do you want?
Nothing in particular. No reason at all. Just a noise
Of dreams at the door. Just as before. Did you see
That?
This is the place where all roads meet, the place
Where all is the secret. The Place where time stands
Still in the comfort of night and love becomes will
In the presence of light. I never want to leave. I
Never want to leave. I never want to leave