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Train MAG
A pretty peopled world,
tiptoeing between raindrops and the skeletons of trees on the horizon.
Pencil pencil pencil till you’re dead,
train tracks wrapped around your neck (mostly the pills just make you sweat).
John’s got a new world order.
Can’t wait to – sir please get me out of this rickety cage cage cage not too long to train death
I’ll put you on my wall or something.
On the train thinking about falling in love at the opera house, asking
Why can’t i sleep with the lights off?
Too sad for love poems
You’re halfway purple, halfway empty ’cause the ending cut the cigarettes.
When you’re finally home,
get out of the car (without a kiss this time).
Pretty Peopled Anythings
Walking past the train station,
tired of being high,
overwhelmed by the constant delusion that there is one more.
We’re used to the way the skeleton midwest dances on the skyline –
we stopped asking what town we’re in
Can’t wait to – sir please get me out of this cage, not too long
to train death.
John’s got a new world order;
it’s sketched out on the back of the seat in front of him.
he kicks he kicks
he’s half dead
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