danny cameron

Twere sailing on a train line

Cody spoke through the headphones, and eyes bent through the window out into the passing lake. Sydney was leaving me behind again, and all that the future offered was listening to Cody again and again in another night in Newcastle. The train rattled onward and inward and gathered momentum as the album swung through escalating corridors of non-existent memories that jolted the senses into thinking of the nothingness that encaptulates the surrounding dull minds aboard this train of damp staleness. The lack of emotion across other passengers faces strikes my eyes, erase, erase, move on. The bridge stole my thought, and I didn't want it back. Winter is encroaching and the jackets are walking from their cupboards and enjoying the re union. The crisp air reminiscent of the north coast green hills, electro hippy hills, techno crazed and out of control. And still the industrial noise echoes across the harbour, and the early morning silence of a city asleep kreeps upon in the darkness, the strange caffiened fools who still lay awake listening to the music turn their thoughts upon themselves in rages of screaming silence, and soundless feedback.

 

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