secondlastandovercast and raining, rain

[two hundred, eighty-four?]

should it be hunting, were there signs?
singing, maybe, but nothing

train station elevators
with wheelchair guards
and a hand rail for the elderly
and the rusted steps
and the train, with its noises
sounded like it was leaving,
and it was.

it came, there were gardens, there were
winds and there were rustles,
and there were days spent in bed on big pillows
and there were people in high skirts and
and
whistles.

so the wind did, so did the train,
so did the passengers,
they whispered too, too many double you's,
too many wavering watching words,
too many, and it hurt.

but that's the way we go these days,
we run and jump and skip and play,
and everytime there comes the day,
that we have to get on that train,
to continue on to leave,
it is hard to not get down,
way down,
on the ground.

focus: i don't know i needed some sort of filler i suppose, it's sort of complete rubbish, i'm tired, bad day.

jess :]