The train yard

The train yard sang it's blues again tonight, it sounded like a bird trying to wake up the sun. Anyway, the cold is still cold and blues are even bluer especially when they're being sung from the bottom of the gut of a 10 ton hammer. It pounds and strikes you down as soon as you see the city lights shine up and take over your irises. sink or swim you decide; whether or not you feel the reprisal and disgust. "Oh look to the sky! Look at the stars and see them for the real diamonds they are! Not the rocks you think you deserve around your wrists and neck. They are nothing but chains...shackles if it were, so stop being a slave in the gutter of the existence you seem to call a life! Reach up to the sky and don't look back on your past lovers, the diamonds that are painted all over the sky are yours!"
The fool by the tracks, chastises me again with his view for a positive well being. I find nothing more comforting than the rolling of old thunder, when I put my head to the sleepers and feel the passion in the rocks that line the roads. "Calm thyself, tonight we are nothing and tomorrow morning we will be even less if the sun carries on shining".
I catch my breath. "Hey you, yeah you...the one with the curly hair!" she said. I look around to see nothing but green and trees. And definitely, no girl. "Stop trying to see me and see me" she howls, but again I am lost within the everglades and the canopy of the emerald tent that doesn't block out the sun but merely shades it from the common eye, so the diamonds that sit in patiently in one's school of thought keep clarity. I look down to the grass and see a seldom sycamore seed, lying on it's back. I extend out my arm and pose my fingers; with an almighty exhalement i send the sycamore seed flying into the forest sky, oh how it rotates and gyrates like the hips of a past lover, dancing carelessly into the night time and slowly into the morning. "There you go, all you need is a little more light in your life. To you, life just seems just like cleaning the kitchen; you have to do it but you only rarely feel any appreciation for it."
By this time, I had no idea where this dialect was being transmitted from. I bring my knife to arms and call out "why do you not choose to show you're face unto my eyes? are my eyes not worthy to see what I long to see at this given moment?"
"Maybe." she said.
"Maybe you need to stop seeing what you think you know and start seeing what you really need to? I know that your heart longs for nothing more than the love of an enemy, but when your love is needed to be shared you feel nothing but a shallow sense of pride that eats away at you like an apple."
I shut my eyes to see, that the train yard is back upon me. I look beyond the words that I see in front of my eyes