two-step.

i'm seeing things in smoke again, catching shapes in the nets of the corner of my eye. i write it off.

truthfully, where was i?

ranting and ridiculous, tied hopelessly to these train tracks, hearing vibrations in the rails, i look to the sky for saving. knight in shining armor buried under the rubble of another sinking world. someone just tell me where i hid my pocket knife. i'll set myself free. thanks.

then i'll go and dig him out from under bits of gravel and glass that stick under my fingernails.

how is it we remember those bland moments of waiting for trains, but the rest is elusive? i fear the worst.