Railway randomness

I often find myself looking at photographs of people.
The ones with whom I took turns in taking each others breath.
And the ones that were just shadows lost in the cold light of morning.
I see them gazing into a vague horizon.
Lost. Disconnected.
And I can"t help but wonder sometimes if there"s me at the end of their thoughts.

I find myself too often awake at 3 am, with my hand against the wall
fingers playing with the black and white keys of memory.
Too often I find myself sunken in pages,
swimming in oceans of distilled carelessness.
Anything to distract me.
Paper, glass, nicotine and entire worlds inbetween.

Time changes the setting. The soundtrack. The supporting characters.
26 and my photographs are starting to lose their colour.
I am a sane man, slowly awaking from his insanity.
And it's a sad and boring world to wake up to.
Unless you have your wheels in motion and keep moving.
Because when you stop moving...