look! there’s a neon train galloping in the sky;
look, it’s looking at me.
I’m so special it’s gonna run over me,
darling, you know right?
tiptoeing around burnt asphalt on highway rails,
i’m smothering my bloody mouth with heart shaped pebbles,
don’t come here you’ll be stained.
grief has an unmistakable stench,
you never really forget it,
instead you measure every smell against it’s carcass.
the neon train has tiny windows,
I drew them in notebooks at the back of class,
hoping no one would notice me there.
awful lot of eyes peeping out of that thing.
I try to count them all and give them names,
sometimes I name them after extinct fishes,
I tell them stories about ophelia and the stars and my day and my.
why didn’t you stop me,
I’ve been blabbering about myself, how are you my dear,
are you breathing,
I mean to say, do you also see the neon train,
or do they come in planes for you.

I’ve always hated the way trains hold themselves together,
I think I’ve always been jealous of trains,
I try to walk like the holes in my bones are just
those shaky places in trains,
and I don’t stop when they try to run over me,
this is why I’m not a car sweetie, cars stop for pedestrians,
trains run like they have to, a horse on a race track,
but there’s no rider just a whip.
compulsive stabs on my lips, i should like to flip
through knives instead of rosary. each evening i sip
a eulogy for the day, each night i scream - i didn’t live again,
i’m so fucking special.

why don’t you put me between glass and wait
for life to squeeze out, i’m in exile from my own body,
trespassers kick it like a rusted swing in a public playground,
i go home and stitch up my bruises with barbed wires.
oh, do you understand now, see?
i’m so fucking special i’m going to get off this train.