By Flaw of Physics
In this train I watch the ground drift quietly past my window. I watch the air sink slowly to yellow, then to a heavy orange, like the despair of quitting. The day steeps, bleeding red into the skyline, pleeding into night, giving faded blessings as remembered sins. I stand up and see a lone passenger's head bobbing, sleeping, consumed by subconscious. I watch him, jealous of his rest. My thoughts view him as an anecdote to the malady of awake perceptions. Grass blades run by my window quickly; individual at first, then joining together with speed to turn into a river that carries me backward. It begins to rain. I see it first as singular drops, then, like the grass, they slant downward, together. The only forward motion is the unaware bobbing head in front. This train is only holding backward moving thoughts and a man oblivious of his reality, he cannot be considered moving forward consciously, but by an inescapable law of physics.