One Word: option

Every time you hear a bell ring
I've lost another muse.
Shovel air past my vocal chords,
heaps of coal to stoke fires.
Power steam engines of poetry
that fall upon deaf ears.
It's the same pain
as falling out of love.
Train whistle wails and sobs
silently without option.
Chuff-chuff-chuff down invisible tracks
to hollow, gutted ghost towns,
packed with dessicated tumbleweeds
and oil deprived hinges.