Train No. 2

The train slithers

through the woodlands

But it also rocks

the sides shake

-ominously

The trees lurch forward

-tentatively

In the mind's eye, I see

a ghost train bounce off

hit the trees

and explode

into a multitude

of shelled pieces

Fast forward

turns out it's not a ghost train

Anguish; screams, yells, heat

intense heat

A Titanic-esque pose

The engineers refuse to leave

The upturned wreck; people inside

The panic; the burning heat

Slowly, but not surely, an escape

walking corpses; the lashing heat

Nothing to claim them except

Night, fire and wood

Too many trees

As everything starts to be consumed

They walk, no clear sense of direction

Away from the burning death trap

Away from the carnage

Away from the stench

Away...

Modelos

I'm a junkie.

I don't know exactly what kind, a special kind I think, because I'm not a junkie to any specific one thing.

I mean, you can easily tell who Crack Junkies are, and who Sports Junkies are, but me? You can't identify me.

I'm a junkie all right, a chameleon junkie. A person seeing me stay up till 5 am might think I'm an Insomniac Junkie, but then the next day they'll see me listening to CBC Radio One all day long, so they'll think I'm a CBC Radio One Junkie. But what if they saw me lurking around at the Wychwood Barns late at night, they'd think I was a lurker Junkie, but I don't go there every night.

Let's look at the Urban Dictionary definition of a Junkie, shall we? There are many, an accepted one would be:

Junk-ie –noun Informal. Generally, junkie (in terms of drug abuse) applies to someone addicted to a narcotic-- such as heroin, morphine, opium, codeine, and methadone.

So am I a Junkie? In the informal sense yes, because my body seeks out drugs, and then produces its own.

Ha, a real Junkie would scoff at me.

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