Treadmill Express

The-down-escalator-London-006Treadmill Express

Morpheus, healer, hold me fast,
Perpetuate your sea of night,
For tides of dawn a-cull with might
To strafe me back to shores of light.
Yet purged I’m torn from slumber’s arms,
From balms of soothing bliss I’m wrenched,
My wounds unhealed my thirst unquenched,
In verity’s cold grip I’m clenched;
And stark emerged from surf of sleep
To climb once more the cliff of day,
Through dawn’s chill-mist I make my way
To join the masses in the fray;
And make again that steep descent
Into suburbia’s heaving numbles,
Where Miller’s dirge relentless rumbles
E’er the subway stairway trundles
Down to that tube. Beneath the earth,
From platform packed to dire excess,
I step into the swelling press,
The seven-oh-five—Treadmill Express.

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