The Station

 Time moves fast, the way a train does: faster than the blood rushing through you at the sight of your worst fear. It slips by in a second right ahead of your eyes. And all you do? is stare pointlessly.

It's all "In that void mind of yours" - that empty pensive soul. how could it ever work out

you have "A thought running through" - you're being gulped down, whole of you, swallowed with ease, inside and out, until all there's left..is skin and bones.

replay it "All over and over and over again"

a tape-recorder flashes up all that's ever happened where you've just been - stuck. Trying to put the pieces together perhaps? maybe it's a painting and not a puzzle?

Everybody seems to be on their path

have you left the station?

~h.