Stop this train-notes on becoming obdurate.

No I’m not colorblind
I know the world is black and white
Try to keep an open mind
I just cant sleep on this tonight

Stop this train
I want to get off and go home again
I cant take the speed its moving in
I know i cant
But honestly wont someone stop this train

Don’t know how else to say it
Don’t want to see my parents grow
One generation length away from fighting life on my own
Stop this train



Bittersweet mornings at home do not come easy when the titular song is playing in the background . Color is such an important part of expression. Im sure people who study design have a separate semester devoted specifically to the effects of color. The intricate foreplay of lights and shadows. A hue in our surrounding can extrapolate the most inane feelings within us. A whiff of saffron. Walking into the sunset…the crimson dusk. The pale mornings. The placid white sheets, when they strike the pale blue outside.


I moved out of my home almost 10 years back. I was to go to boarding school. The engine was lubricated, the coolants were a check. The TRAIN LEFT before I could take the proverbial sighs. Im a traveller ever since. Ive been visiting people. Ive been saying Hi’s. Ive been eating with them, sharing a joke or two, and then I have the next train to nowhere. The Bye’s do not happen now. They had stopped hurting a long time back. The stench of stale food, fresh out of the pantry, crumbled clothes, Crumbles, Crumbling… Squalor, putridity, The Sanctimonious excrement on the tracks, home to me. Me to home. Me.

Wanting the ephemeral, transcending the present, my hand is stretched out for the Thing, but i am really not sure if it is part of me.Part of me says it is.
Part of me. PART. Me.

The Bye’s do not happen now. Someone! Someone, Say a Bye. I am sure i will stretch my hand out and wave a hearty goodbye. My hand stretched out. Stretched. Part of me says.
Part. Me.



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