I scarcely know
what to believe
either way offers
me no relief.

Is loving the rain
a modern thing?
An unexpected side effect of
walls and roofs and heated rooms?
Or are these mere trivialities
and water
falling from the sky
has always made the human heart
sing in deeper tones
from the gut, further down
in the dirt where the roots
drink it in, every
drop, every
note.

For the dreams that will never come true
The sound of these dreams are
Echoing through streets
All around the world

For the dreams that will never come true
The dreams that televisions sell us
In different prices,in different shapes and colors
That dreams live in the minds of adolescents


For the dreams that will never come true and
Never came true
The dreams that all of the humanity dreamt and right now we are dreaming
Dream of love and dream of happiness

Night sits on my chest
Squeezes poems out of me
And grinds my poor soul

Years ago
We stayed up till
3 am talking,
And today
I don’t even know
How to say hi,