Parallel Lines and Infinity

No surer would my heart have been cleaved
with a butcher's blade,
fire hardened and stone sharpened,
whetted tip gleaming,
a thousand times brighter
than the North Star.

The marks you left upon my soul
continue from now to hell and gone.
Parallel lines and infinity,
stamped and stomped.
Tattooed upon my breast;
Railroad tracks to nowhere.
"All aboard," shouts a visage conductor
with a watch like a '56 Plymouth hubcap.

Hobos ride the rails.
Meanwhile you sharpen your claws
and knives with hurtful words
and miserable deeds,
ready for another attack.
I wander the rails
with a wary ear,
praying for another
runaway train.