Day 50 (Train ride train of thought)

a question
              common
                                                                                                   concern
                                                            or 
simple action
                                                                       hand gestures
                            pointing
                                               to the walk ways
                                                                                           hallways
that never led us anywhere
                                                   but the simple
                                                                                 tare
                  in flesh
                                                                                            brought forth the
                                   pretty
                               red
                                     flow
                                            of life
i'm looking for scars could you spare a few?
                                                              a mew and whisper
                       from god's right hand kitten
                                                                                       purring perfect
        from the lap time had forgotten
                                                              this simple phrase
                                                    or
                                                            maybe just  a maze
           to
                     walk through
                                                    so
                                                         take extended hand
                                                                                        or
                                      paw
                                                                  gnash teeth
                                                                                 at the rotten and raw
pull thorn from hoofed slave foot
                                               the drip drain and forgotten refrain
                                       from
                                               the coffee pot's last gurgle
                                                                                                        and
                         pop
                                                  a morning dirge
                                                                       waiting
for the nocturnal hymnal
                                                   for
                                                                 a night time of forgotten emissions
          and standards set forth and put to action
                                                                                                          a minor faction
                                      of thought and ideals
there's a fence to climb
                                doused in barb wire
                                                            and
                                                                  coated in the failure
                                                                                               attempts at scaling
the obstacle of our hearts one long drawn desire
                                                                  this is the funeral fire
                set to burn
                                              constellations yearn
                                                                                     through the thought
provoking
                                     fog
                                                        and
     mist
                                                              of
                             this
          that
              and the other