Day Dreaming on the Central Line

they smell of sweat
on the underground today;
the mice that live in the rails
are sleeping,
drunken beneath the ground.
I see you looking over;
looking over that yellow line
at the tracks below you.
the angels, they would welcome you;
go home,
go to that place you’re weeping for.
but do not drown beneath the city;
do not rest
where the sun will never kiss
your teary cheeks again.
check the map;
those lines of red are veins,
the blood that keeps you sane.
we still have many stops to go—

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