The Somnaumbulist

[CRNDLSM]

Bumph. We're home again.
I sleep outside a train-line. 
My room hangs over railways
and I’m lullab-ied by
departures and delays. 
I mutter alterations through the dark. I like the onomatopoeias throughout. I picture like the house in the triplets of belleville  and the occasional train, but yes train sounds can be sleep inducing

Crash. They’re back at work again. 
I eat beside a building site. 
My kitchen rests against the diggers 
as I season with cement,  
sprinkle asphalt in my tea;
the next best thing to sweetener. Yes, we have a freeway under construction near our house and this is how it feels, stay positive.

Honk. We’re driving off again.
I piss inside a lay-by,
take baths in blood-sucked bubble-wrap you lost me in these two lines.  We? 
and tousle my hair for drivers’ rear-view mirrors. 
Never quite 
make it to the motorway. This whole strophe lost me, i like the imagery up in the first two and almost had it here I just can't visualize it

I won’t stand to be forgotten.
I won’t stand for my bed 
to be built upon. Like you're losing your home?
I won’t stand.
I won’t stand, at all. Sad tale