Friday

Crushed against the smeared window, in the wobbling door of the train 

seemingly refusing to keep a constant direction or speed,

momentum interrupted

or is it

stationery interrupted by jerky movements,

an elderly man fighting trembling and shaking limbs

bodies follow the movement, in echo

out of concert

smell of skunk wafts around from the youth, slouching as she thumbs her way around an ugly brick of a phone,

diamante designs reflecting her skin

red and swollen eruptions marking the unhealthy glistening pink

'we apologise...' goes the tannoy

'for the delay. this was (this timothy have an excuse) caused by...'

scrolls through the choice of reasons...

'someone being hit by a train in the Leyton area....'

silence screams in my head



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