Face on Fire

EXTRA HELL

In his worst dreams, trains still run

hurtling themselves at an unknown distance

with no cargo, no destination

In his worst dreams, where people run

scurrying to hide when they hear you coming

against a sky of smoke and ashen remains

that these people dug filthy digits

into the cavities of their own skull

tearing away in fear, tearing away

in fear of what they had seen

in fear of what they might see

that part Ethat’s the part that sometime terrifies him enough to wake

that the people in the world of his dreams, they cannot see

In real life, trains no longer run

they rest, in a perpetual state of ache

the sky is mostly clear of smoke

And in real life, the ashen remains

have been commended back to the earth

and the people are mostly gone

the irony almost sickens him

mornings when he sits arms wrapped

around himself, reeling from the vision

of men, who blinded themselves

there is one more thing to fear, this much of his dream is true

he has that much left to fear, in real life