The subway scream resonates within my chest cavity and my lungs breathe in the roar of the fading dreams that yet cling to the crow’s nests perched upon the hull of my weathered eyes. It is stormy within and concrete without. I am as deep underground in the collapsed mines of my trepidation and the leaden weight soaring above me grounds me in these fleeting moments of liminal sensibility. I am falling horizontally where the sky is pumped through ventilators and vacuum-sealed ports. Will I remember these moments in my days of molted, mottled skin. Damn the corruption of gin and the engines of entropy. Would this train reach Elysium by cutting through the core of human turbulence and sin! But there is only work to wither my reserves of wonder. I will age beyond my years in the pursuit of security.