I said. I have been thinking how my worst thoughts
Will only get less acceptable as I age. This anger, this ugly jealousy,
It is no longer okay to feel such irrational things. I am so childlike
In my pinafore dress, telling the train conductor that I am lost.
I have been told that twenty-one is an exciting age. A pure place
Between care-free and caring. But I am troubled by the way the rain keeps
Beating against the window that I am resting my head against. How long
Until it breaks, and I have lost my breath
To a world rushing by in blurs of watercolour?
A boy to the left is reading 12 Rules for a Better Life and
The man opposite keeps spitting noises from his throat.
I think he’s forgotten that I’m here.
I can feel roads being moved away beneath wheels and
The world is being repeatedly thrown away all around me.
I am clawing at the earth, digging for treasure.
I count the ways that I can bring the sun closer to all of us here.
The trees outside refuse to move for anyone. They simply bleed
Their flowers onto the rotting ground, and spread their arms wide
Towards a sky they will never reach.