Wednesday, November 23, 2005
it was cold but it was dry and
all i need to see,
was for the sky to rain on me
and drown my soul, to cease.
but it was dry and all i could
was to look upwards and cry;
but dry it was and still it was
to do something i'd try.
i opened my eyes, to try to take
in every sight and sound.
the air was still, the skies were fake
i knew i'd lost all ground.
my heart called for rain, but 'twas clear,
i had to find a way.
sprinklers, showers for contrived salvation,
pretending it's nothing close to aggravation and
i kept those tears at bay;
even if they could be the only thing that's real in
a place otherwise inane,
trying to find sense in you in a world
that seemed otherwise insane.
the rain threshed down upon
my flesh, which cared not if it was unreal.
as i clamoured for penance i found
what was still and surreal.
the rainbeats came in a rhythm that
had nothing varied or new.
mechanical manifestations of a force of nature,
which now served like
a masturbatory measure.
to sit and wait and wish and wait it
wrings my soul alive.
as my mortal self bleeds, i want you to know,
for you i'd bleed and die.
but all i ask of you would be to bring
the rain back here;
'cause you alone and nothing else,
could make me to be real.
