My Reeking Thoughts

The night reeks of my thoughts and desires;
Nights that aren't dead,
Desires unmoving,
And preyed upon by reminiscence.
How the pile keeps getting bigger,
And bigger.
And how every other night dies,
With one of my thoughts,
Or desires.
Pure, but still reeking.

Like those satis burning, on their husbands' funeral pyres;
Women, that aren't dead,
Husbands unmoving,
But to keep their essence.
How everything burns, with vigor
And rigor.
And how they go one by one, as a reprise 
From those lots,
Willingly, or forced into such fires.
Alive, yet heaven seeking.

"Statutory Warning: Pretty Hard Stuff. Read at your own risk."

Tuesdays' Really Gone

'Twas a Tuesday...just like any other, out there.

But that was a year before. Or, maybe its a lifetime on...,
and my thoughts circle around the lyrics of "Tuesdays' gone".

The Tuesday sure is gone. With the Wind.
I bet, whilst leaving, it must've grinned.

Now theres' just this wait. I sit alone, bare, on the station
waiting, for the train, or on rails, the slightest vibration.

Can not leave the station. I'm the one carrying it on.
All the parts I play, and characters I don.

The wind comes back. Feel it on my face every now and then,
packed with the Tuesday's scent. Starting to forget I'm when.

Oh! the train did pass from here before,
— and maybe, I missed it;
or, maybe 'twas an express nonstop, I wouldn't know,
I was just too late to catch it...!

"Note: Prior listening of the song "Tuesdays' Gone" should help a bit :P"