The Journey Where

Speeding through the night into the morning,
rippling through tunnels and
in-between mountains flawlessly.
My seat on the train is comfortable enough,
but sleep cannot find me
so my gaze averts itself from my hands to
the window on my left.
I watch - eyes glazed - as the world
seems to be slipping away.
Just as my heart begins to sink
and my mind is filled with thoughts of regret
I feel a gentle hand
slip into mine.

Snow falls heavily,
landing on the windshield of the car;
soft, wet thuds that get quickly wiped away
with the flick of the wipers.
The man driving talks loudly over the radio,
but I tune out the words -
remaining comfortably quiet in the backseat -
and listen for a melody.
The snowfall hides what I know is beyond;
vast fields of nothing,
stretching on for an eternity,
indirectly forming my personal Hell.
I strain my eyes,
hoping to catch a glimpse of
something new through the wall of white.
The passenger-side window rolls down an inch,
and I hear the flick of a lighter as
snow flurries into my face.
I lean forward and place my hand on his shoulder:
"Can I get a cigarette?"

Downtown in my city is well lit at night.
I watch the half-asleep buildings
and trees sporting fairy lights
melt by through the big bus windows,
through the people who stand up to get off
when we've reached their stop.
My chest is tight with anxiety and
anger and disappointment and my eyes
are tired but they still scan the streets
as we glide through them.
The sky is a deep blue velvet blanket
draped over my city,
suffocating but still beautiful, nonetheless.
I feel his eyes tearing into me
from the corner of mine
so I meet his gaze.

My limbs feel weighed down
and my sobriety has become burdensome,
clawing at my mind ravenously.
I stare out the backseat window into
the unraveling fields,
making polite conversation with the driver
here and there; a taxi from my Hell
to my city where I should be okay.
But when the chatter quiets - and I start to measure
the weight of my loneliness - I can only
feel the hole inside of me widening somehow,
as I close the distance between
me and what I now view
as a battlefield.