Subway Signs

On a noisy train through the dark

Under pressure from a heavy winter

Sat alone in a dirty corner

No more prospects but a bitter end.

Two trillion galaxies. Two. Trillion. Galaxies.

One last subway train home.

But my brain turned a dark corner

Saw a light from a burning bridge

Flew to Tokyo

saw a wrestling show

Naked ladies and their murdered brain cells

Though one should never jump to conclusion

And risk poisoning from lesser minds

They couldn’t help seeing signs of something

Less limited than telescopes

If we are stuck in the mud,

looking for fruit,

doomed because we just love fucking.

Will we ever see, the complexities

Of time in stone cold cosmos?

Do rats ever wear denim vests,

Thinking it will be to the ladies liking?

Did I sign up for something, I really can’t manage,

or will they love me no matter what?

❄︎

Silence. Hang gliding through the Amazon. At dusk. Naked.

❄︎

And I fell through the floor

Into a whirling maze

Or maybe just a perfect fractal

I saw patterns emerge, though the fabric of time

And they showed me the road to China

Where the emperor was sat, on a marshmallow hat,

Dictating what I like for breakfast:

Eggs eggs eggs

eggs eggs eggs

eggs eggs eggs eggs - tea

Two trillion galaxies. Two. Trillion. Galaxies.

One last subway train home.

You see, I’m a slave to this body, it pilots our ship,

and I’m just a friendly advisor.

It eats when it’s hungry,

It kisses the girl

And it sleeps through my favorite series

Next stop? Where do I get off?

Am I there yet?

I’d much rather stay here, until my brain turns back on

It’s out somewhere looking for answers.

If I ever believed in Jesus’ heaven,

Was it only because I was scared?

Did I decide to choose - revelations and wine

Or do I still think that heaven is just an embarrassingly easy answer

to a question so complex

it’s best left to AI.

Two trillion galaxies. Two. Trillion. Galaxies.

One last subway train home.

❄︎

Maker of bread your my hero

Maker of beds I surrender

Builders of roads, suppliers of beer

Kickers of a fresh, wet football

Earth is my Eden.

Earth is your Eden.

The closest mere fools come to heaven.

But still I go on,

balancing on the razor thin edge

between everyday supermarket sanity

and the eternal purgatory disco.

Have I fallen yet?

Will I ever?

Will my need for showers and coffee and friends

keep my feet on the ground?

Can I get a woop woop?

’Onward’ said Kanye!

’We need to make it to Eskilstuna before nightfall.

We will camp under cliffs built by anime heroes,

struggling to beat the decease.’

’I will show you’, he said ‘the glittery rain of waste from the Rocketburg powerplant. A sight to be seen, that will help you get chosen, to a seat at the table of the fallen.’

Two trillion galaxies. Two. Trillion. Galaxies.

One last subway train home.

❄︎

Monkey god, money god

Virgins on the shore.

Of what fun, it is to ride,

in a train to meet the lord

Take me there, I’m not scared

I will make a scene

I will scream, ’fuck this dream’

I’m fine with 9 to 5.

Beautiful bride, frogs on parade, Han Solo on his way to Walmart. Kicks with chicks, mayonnaise on dicks, sticky chunks of paper towel. Heaven, earth, so ashamed of how I treated you. Kick me, beat me, have me walk with shame. Through the streets like Cersei, on the moon with Harvey Weinstein, at Mar a Lago with a dry martini. Soulful beats, or some rock n roll, I never wanted to be your burden. Satellites, matrix code, scrolling my way to hell. Time will tell, what magic spell, will finally have us enlightened. Moves like Jagger, TikTok strippers, asses at classes, the girls from before, and the fucking police at my door. Tax evasion, who you gonna call, what prosciutto is this? Swimming through waste, showers at swingers parties, cuts of pants, suspenders, more work, answer that damn e-mail. You teeth are falling out! Or at least they will if you don’t treat her better. Wash the sheets, buy new meat balls, call Jon, he deserves some attention. Angels and devils, Lucifer on a stick, barbecue parties in Bali. Wake up it’s breakfast, who’s texted you? Did you answer? Count calories, what time does the bus leave, I can’t believe how cold it’s gotten. More money, more power, more cream, more butter, more thrust, more light, more stuff, more sauce on this fucking toast. Pedigree, mini-me, oh what a dirty Beyoncé. House music, boom boom boom, to hard for this crowd, go back to the 90’s, show them who’s boss. Uptown girl, snobs at dinners, champagne, negroni, CEO speeches. Let’s make a mess. Let’s make a mess. Let’s make a mess. Let’s make a mess.

Two trillion galaxies. Two. Trillion. Galaxies.

One last subway train home.

❄︎

Did I drink?

I don’t think so.

Did I eat?

Probably not.

Was I poisoned, drugged, or did I simply volunteer

for something I didn’t quite understand?

Did I push you to the limit, oh my sweet little brain?

Did we cross the line or the damn Rubicon?

Is it too late to choose normal life?

Come on, wake up.

You’re scaring me.

I’m not ready to see any new dimension.

Don’t introduce me to gods, don’t sprinkle any stars

don’t explain the dark matter equation.

Take me to my warm bed,

make me a sandwich,

Put on something random on Netflix.

Two trillion galaxies. Two. Trillion. Galaxies.

One last subway train home.