The Train Leaves at 8

If you can bare the wait,
The train leaves promplty at 8.
 
I acknowledge that its 5pm on a Tuesday and the air around us is still clearing of toxic waste.  
 
Our moon hasn't reached its peak and the sun is blinding,  
 
too many mouths with plated tounges, turned up noses, fake smiles.
 
Aware that loneliness is a ploy to ring the clouds out before they are hung in the sky in our image.
 
Knowledge that I am followed by ghosts of hearts when they litter the night in their tantrums,  
shooting across the mind in passing.
 
You were laughing torentially,
Aware of how you've damned me too the river bed too be clensed of demons that can never be spent.  
 
Notion of tired limbs and breaking songs, the collateral skip in our beating storm.  
 
Long live the death in love I've sworn.
 
Don't be late...
The train leaves promptly at 8.
 
If it leaves you behind you remain too contemplate the fear in the choices you made.
 
And I will live with the ghost in the cold, the manic burn of the wounds were born,
 
Aware that love knows no age,  
but the pain it never erases,  
never fades..
 
Permanent notes on a ride to hell,  
I will love beyond...  
no fixing spell.
 
I love your pain, I love the sound, I love the way you bled me out.
 
Aware that I feel now...
 
Notion that I was hidden before you stuck your soul in my shadows and danced mine into existence.
I am beyond resisting...
 
The heart knows what the mind thinks about when our moon is high and the stars fall down,  
 
when you're laughing while I'm crying, when our music skips and our hearts beat, and we feel like we are living, in the same breath dying.
 
When the lines stop and our souls are lost.  
When the ghosts haunt our empty halls.
When you die alive for loves sweet cost.