beneath the matt

hiss and grainy and all out of order words – the toilet is also out of order at the end of the platform – i run through the barriers eager to catch my train across the stars – the barriers are open but i remain static – unable to move – unable to concentrate – i’m falling – i’m falling again – not in love this time but maybe next – i’m falling through the clouds and the sky is opening up beneath me and the floor is dissipating around me – my memories are dissolving in a pot of clay and nobody speaks english – i only remember the train [doors open] waiting for me at the end of the platform as i stand still in an open gate on an empty platform that still feels like it is suffocating me – claustrophobia strikes twelve and clock-phobia strikes twice – how would i know if this was real when reality is inconsistent? 

i should be on the train but i cannot pass through. it is not yet my time.