Walking Triggers

Warped trains of thought 
Derailing off the track of reality
Thrown carelessly into dreamscape 
Dressing wounds that bleed with empty manuscripts
Hair of sister constellates,
Eyes liquid nightmares, 
Airborne in the stillness,
Drafted thoughts,
liquid suspensions,
Imaginary witnesses staring on,
As it'll all crash,
burn to the ground, 
Pulling my strings, 
Pulling me out of the train, 
Tossing me into oblivion,
Imaginary people made up of insanity, 
Conversing over my damaged soul,
A hundred Blurry words, 
A thousand night dreams,
A million graphite faces,
All passing through these quick moments,
Insanity is quick,
So easy to derail,
When reality clashes with mind,
You're fast to wind up dead,
Until there's nothing left,
Except for a walking trigger.