The northern line on a monday night, 11pm
The tube home is a dizziness of reality. Glissens of conversations, sliplights into the cracks of other peoples eyes. The world is loosened by alcohol. Images slip and glide. Words are drowned by the rumble of the tunnel and tracks and bouts emerge into clarity and disappear again with a squeal and a screech.
My heart is breaking slowly again. Dissolving into the pain of impossibility. Stammers of hope waken it, stir it, and bam-bam-you're-dead-fifty-bullets-in-your-head.
stops my breath. Sits high in my chest. central. stolid lump of un-com-for-table (spell out each crickcrack)............ nothing. All the things I don't allow myself to admit.
The boy along from me is tapping and tilting his head side to side to a rhythm I can't hear. His trainers shine bright white in my peripheral view.
This station is borough. This train terminates at Morden.
How nice.
I sit. I focus on my book. The lump dissolves and hardens again. I try to swallow it away, but it's grasping at my throat, pulling at the bottom of my tongue.
People have left the debris of their day lent up against the windows. A Tesco's bag knotted at the collar, a stately coke can sitting shiny behind the seats.
Some people close their eyes, or rest their heads in their hands. Two girls are turned in towards each other, still animated despite the night.
The tube stops. Conversations come into clarity, soften as their speakers see they're no longer guarded by the journey.
'...He's such a perve n'all...'
The next station is Kennington.
'...If you cut your hair... past your route...'
Change here for northbound services via Charing Cross.
Looking for Great Travel Insurance. Insure and Go!
People stare morosely at the advertising opposite them.
This train terminates at Morden.
Silence. The electric breath of the lights.
....'We thought we were going to celebrate on the Thursday, like we assumed... I'm not going dancing, no way...
From over the moon to the honeymoon.
...terminates at... terminates....
'I didn't want to be somebody who stood by and did nothing'.
Helen, Volunteer Police Officer.
Annual Multi-trip £30. Winter Sports £17. Single trip £6. Back packing £11. Kids go for free.
'...she came home wild...'
! In an emergency use the passenger alarm to alert the driver. It is safer to stay in the train than attempting to get off. Follow instructions from staff or emergency services.
DO NOT TAKE ANY RISKS.
I do what I am told Each breath is a sherbet pain A taut canvas across my chest.
Because
Iyouhe
I am all unfinished cups of tea and watchings
My heart is breaking slowly again. Dissolving into the pain of impossibility. Stammers of hope waken it, stir it, and bam-bam-you're-dead-fifty-bullets-in-your-head.
stops my breath. Sits high in my chest. central. stolid lump of un-com-for-table (spell out each crickcrack)............ nothing. All the things I don't allow myself to admit.
The boy along from me is tapping and tilting his head side to side to a rhythm I can't hear. His trainers shine bright white in my peripheral view.
This station is borough. This train terminates at Morden.
How nice.
I sit. I focus on my book. The lump dissolves and hardens again. I try to swallow it away, but it's grasping at my throat, pulling at the bottom of my tongue.
People have left the debris of their day lent up against the windows. A Tesco's bag knotted at the collar, a stately coke can sitting shiny behind the seats.
Some people close their eyes, or rest their heads in their hands. Two girls are turned in towards each other, still animated despite the night.
The tube stops. Conversations come into clarity, soften as their speakers see they're no longer guarded by the journey.
'...He's such a perve n'all...'
The next station is Kennington.
'...If you cut your hair... past your route...'
Change here for northbound services via Charing Cross.
Looking for Great Travel Insurance. Insure and Go!
People stare morosely at the advertising opposite them.
This train terminates at Morden.
Silence. The electric breath of the lights.
....'We thought we were going to celebrate on the Thursday, like we assumed... I'm not going dancing, no way...
From over the moon to the honeymoon.
...terminates at... terminates....
'I didn't want to be somebody who stood by and did nothing'.
Helen, Volunteer Police Officer.
Annual Multi-trip £30. Winter Sports £17. Single trip £6. Back packing £11. Kids go for free.
'...she came home wild...'
! In an emergency use the passenger alarm to alert the driver. It is safer to stay in the train than attempting to get off. Follow instructions from staff or emergency services.
DO NOT TAKE ANY RISKS.
I do what I am told Each breath is a sherbet pain A taut canvas across my chest.
Because
Iyouhe
I am all unfinished cups of tea and watchings
posted by lecoqblogger at 12:41 am
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