Collided

we like silhouettes sometimes peek through screens of shattered glass, as come screeching down cracked tracks, hundreds of our thoughts held captive in tin boxes, like sweetly obsessive-compulsive journeys that run in circles, taking us from one end to another, yet in between the monotony of universal travel, we watch shadows drop beside us, so we glance upwards, and get absorbed by others, with their eyes getting inside us, uninvited, but too late to turn once auras collided-- because life is a station, and mankind but migrants, and some nights you join me, to ride out the darkness...

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]