In Between Time Zones,...

                               Pacific and westward,.the freight car he resided in gradually maneuvered itself with the rest of the train through the distinct timezones of unwinding landforms and its inhabitants,..It was an Early Spring morning in April,..a day following a night of tremondous rainstorms. He could see out onto the vegetation,.. the gathered puddles beneath the trees. The dew,..and mist rising from the grassy fields of mountains on mountains. The landscape moved quickly and casually in and out of his frame of vision.,..as the sordid sounds of machinery built a wall of sound surrounding his existence,..mangled amidst the trivial voices that assembled his insanity. Nothing was all he had left,..and this provided for him the relief of knowingly accepting it. Once a family man,,..he was happy for a short period of contentment. His wife loved him and his daughter Samantha would never of dreamed of living in a world without him,..the reality of the situation was that this was all a lifetime away.
                      When this all began,.. in the heat of delusion,... fever rose to his head and escaped through the narrow tunnels of his ear canals,..while sweat pervaded from his forehead through a tedious series of exhaustion,..the cycle held captive in invisible air for the whole world to interpret,..except him. A vein attempt at sanity always fell short,..with a grave and maddening thump. For fifteen years he provided for his family,...laboring hard twelve hours a day,..six days a week. A mere factory worker,..temporarily subjected to the gates of hell and then back again,..to the familiar dwelling of his family. It was not that they didn't love him,..they did very much,..despite of everything. It was just that they never knew what to expect,....He came in waves,..sometimes caring and with a smile,...then other times screaming violently in the shower and concluding in broken glass and blood. He would never be the same.
                       Homeless and abandoned,.. a lost man spiralling down the slopes of hallucinatory sprees and chaotic avalanches. Sharply coated with the thunderous pangs of an unforgiving society,..where disease was a bad hand,..and noone took your bluff. Coming to,... was the hardest thing for him. To see what fate had done to him. His filthy hole ridden clothes layered with the grit of previous mishaps. None he would remember all to well,..all he'd be able to put together (and only momentarily) was noone wanted anything to do with him. This he could briefly understand,...that it was all too much.
                    Growing up in the hearth of central America,..the lake of his youth. The mysteries of the universe would rest idly in the corners of his small farmside community,..waiting,..for this very moment to be revealed. He thought he knew the spectrum of his dynasty in a former life when he first took note of himself reflected in the vague silence of his newborn daughters eyes,..but just like everything he knew that was there for the taking,..he lost his calling somewehere in between the foreign oversea trenches of battles never fought that should of been.