My poems align like boxcars that are pulled by this steady "train" of thought.....and as i crawl along the minds terrain on these thin rails of sanity, under a jeweled moon,she,my self doubt,lingers ahead in fevered fashion and she gently lays a penny for my thoughts upon my thin cool rails....upon striking her miscreant offering i am cast into the velvet night,without direction...becoming a wreckedtrain of thought...and with boxcars scattered about,doors ajar...my words,like cattle,which are all sacred wander back into the forests of my mind...lost...i am the wreckedtrain,how do you do? i am the wreckedtrain rolling on through......................Birth sign: Taurus
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