The braking screams,

18 in count.

Spinning round and round as lights go by.

I brace for impact from tangible ghosts 


Time passes on—


No crunch,

No burn,

No entrapment.


I sense invisible stares. 

From each surrounding seat, as they stand empty.

Survivor, they called it.

I remember each seat was overflowing with life,

                                                                   now just the memories.