I don’t want to be alone tonight
But that’s my every night
For the rest of my life
Right now that feels a bit too long
A gaping chasm in my heart
That doesn’t want to keep beating
Dropping down through the rain cloud looks like when you drive in a blizzard. I have the temptation to put my finger out to feel the drops hit against it at speed as one may do with a trailing hand through the water in a leisurely puttering boat. I’m sure it would spear my hand and as the flesh was torn from bones that bent and broke like miniature thunder cracks streams of my blood would mix with the rain to be quite the bad omen for anyone unlucky enough to look at in the storm at an inopportune moment. Which is a very good reason not to give into the impulse not to mention the whole flying inside the plane part.
Tell me please
how to win a war.
I used to hope and dream
and cannot anymore.
Every value has been cut.
Every last corner shorn.
The thing left to me
in solemn days forlorn
is the knowledge inherent
to acknowledge and mourn.
The Proud Dandelion 