Masan Bound

Sweat and old rain seep
out of cherry blossomed
flesh, mingling with legions
of shivering, noisome bodies
on a wind-tossed April evening,
gelatinous kneecaps disintegrating
under harsh light.  Memories of another
train–equally overflowing–and of
another spring, distant and bitter,
briefly spark in these otherwise
vacant eyes.  As high-pitched
screams fill my guilty ears,
salt stained mouths whisper
softly, eager to go home.

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