The Wait - Laura Stevenson

My life’s work is waiting for a train to come

Not driven by a living thing

No free will will I wait for

My masterpiece is running in place

Charting distances I run

Lifting blocks but building nothing

Touching each one and walking off screen

This isn’t moving, break my legs

With the strength of a thousand, won’t you

Take a once very capable brain

And make it quiet, make it sane

And never able to work the same again

Now that the alkaline taste in my mouth

It runs through my throat, into my nose

And I know it’s going to kill me

It’s killing me, it’s killing me

Oh, the wait is killing me