I am unsure which way
this is headed. We face
a wrong direction - the
cityscape a scene we passed,
the horizon far before us now;
the buildings line themselves
ahead as we're pulled back, they
tessellate into the history of home
like perfectly fallen Tetris blocks.
And I draw comfort from the
presence of a stranger near.
I draw comfort from the thought
that I am no longer thinking
in my own head; no longer am I
aware of my pulse b-beating as it must,
nor do I smell my own stale musk, and
why I never look, I do not want to know.
Just in case- just in case- in case
what? The pen hovers, circles above and
I am unsure which way
this is headed,
if any way at all.



Train Back.
day.month.2015.
seun alabi.