A humiliation I can’t describe. That monster that can hide inside the carelessness of those we cherish most. A trans-Siberian railway roaring with emotion never stops. In nature bound to locomotive paths of steel. Tearing at the tracks below its feet, stacks of metal longing to be scratched. Mine is a life of stations in the distance seen. Stations fleeting bidding their farewells ahead of time. Stations bleeding with contempt of what they are. Stations whistling signaling the advent of a purge. And as the passengers stand their turn, a trans-Siberian monster preps it’s appetite. Feeding off mementos of a clueless throng. Feeding off their love and hope and dignity. Feeding off their memories so that we can live in peace. And prosper on what they have to leave behind. Before our train arrives.