Sort of Home

Listless in the crevices of

this once-upon-a-

lighter-day

heartward bound train we used

to call a sort of home,

we lay,

we listen to

clockwork ticks

measuring time passes

in this lapse of

better times before cracks in

grey walls

flicked aimlessly toward narrow

corners and

before we recognized

the lines unintended in this

sort of home

leaned into us like a heartward

bound train,

removed from its tracks,

following unmarked paths

leading to crevices filled

with listless girls and boys.

And the grey scale walls

fell into pools

of black and white sheet rock

rocking steady

touching each other heavy under

piles of un-intentions

blown in circles around our

sort of home we used

to crawl to when things like heartward

bound trains crashed

and collapsed beneath our feet,

before sets of spirals that

cranked together and ticked above

our heads reminded us

of lighter-day

fairy tales and unawake

better times in our lapses of days

before the cracks

showed in

"Once upon a time."