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I opened my eyes
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain,
And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.

I step very softly,
I walk very slow,
I can't do a handstand--
I might overflow,
So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said--
I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.
It’s summer outside
and it’s hot
Its been awhile
since I felt it on my body
and it been on my mind lately
This taste that I am craving
and it’s all over my tongue
I want to taste it
I want it on my skin again
I want to tease it
let it see me in my full glory
I want to feel it on my face
let it wine on me so ever nicely
I want to taunt it  with my mind
Let it trace all the terrain
of my masculinity
I want to please it so good
I want it to please me too
I want it to know its never alone
And i’m not afraid of it, ever
I want to feel it all over my chest
I want to drink it down my throat
A thing that is so beautiful, so pure
And isn’t afraid to feel me back
This stormy weather,
I want it all to myself,
this hurricane ,
this rain, falling on my head.
I feel so free so liberated by it
I’m in in love with this rainy day
Let it rain!!!
Your poetry
Speaks of forever
While the answer
Keenly showing in your eyes.

Sunshine of my mind and soul,
You are such a beautiful,
Beautiful liar

Nonetheless,
It was the unwritten rhythm
Of your heartbeats,
That gave you away.
I would be fooled, if wasn’t music 🎶
you say we're running out of pages,
i say, i'm running out of time,
to make what's left art, my character's arc,
i find beauty in the madness all the time.

you listen to whoever’s loudest,
i'm writing quietly, "you're sadistic",
for never caring how i could fit in it,
stories coming to an end,
resolution's just pretend,
why did you call me your friend?

you know i'm more for retribution,
daggers in my back, i pull through it,
sharpen blades and play okay,
let you narrate your mistakes,
i bite tongues and say it’s fine,
calculate my grand goodbye,
now i know it's the last time.

you say we're only getting older,
i say, i'm not the bravest solider,
when you made me go to war,
waving white flags at our shore,
did you think i could take more?
i’m out of pages, writing more...
Getting crusty round the edges
Like a slice of day-old bread
From the bottom of my twisted toes
To the top of my balding head

Dehydrating like a side of beef
Jerky tough to chew
Not much of me is worth the keep
With nothing hanging that is new

Eyes that once were crystal clear
Now no more than a blur
Please speak loud so I can hear
The meaning of your every word

The lines I blamed on laughter
Aren't funny anymore
Ask me what's the matter
Long ago stopped keeping score

You can take this slice of day-old bread
Remove most of the mold
But when all is done and all is said
Man, I'm getting old
community of concerned silence
submerged in beautiful bliss
security through pristine violence
indulging from the precipice
a legitimized and hopeful sphere
where nostalgia is taught
tribes of the disappeared
in collective coffin cot
dirge of docile disconnect
floating in the familiar flow
gleaming life failure effect
reflected from the calming glow
an emptiness we can't describe
with closed eyes and unmade calls
we yearn for a wider inside
even when sentience crawls

a pause in the extremities
the precompiled thought exchange
warm welcome obscenities
ransacked and rearranged
inconstant conversation
with the void of sudden stares
replaced with relaxation
and the comfort of the glare
delightful streams assault the skull
sterile, safe, and bright
depleted and desperately dull
swinging sea of peppered light
the inconvenience is self-installed
the underlying illusion undone
shrink down our huffing halls
the idle universe has won

the enemy is deep within
performance of a billion waves
swallowed smiles and sheared skin
how the happy hive behaves
the veil will protect you
from unintentional dismay
regret imprinted with the hue
of a shrouded gargled gray
surprise of the vibrating static
a pain we all outgrew
signals stuttering erratic
in the calm unending queue
the awkwardness we will away
while embracing tomorrow
we can't escape a single day
of scroll of want of follow

why would we even care to change
we live like leaking taps
neatly cubed nicely contained
clinging to the collapse
the greatest source of doubt
counts steadily in the wrong direction
abandoned from within without
the violent means of introspection
calm comfortable victimhood
moments for the self to shine
a debt distinctly understood
children of the copied divine
the grind has never been as grand
to constantly be seen and heard
the perfectly designed brand
the flashing the absurd

the algorithms all agree
with the incompleteness of your thoughts
what is not yours and cannot be
the gift that can't be bought
the law of things obtained and kept
protected by the shared veneer
in the screams of squares we slept
buoyant in unconscious fear
collectively brushed aside
wisdom warped and blurred
broken rhythms often denied
desynchronizing word for word
the norm and the exception
the youthful smile reign
the stabs of asking questions
in the murmuring mundane

a looming forest fire
roams nervously in the system
flooded in the mirror's ire
both perpetrator and victim
the limbed and headed machine
will do anything for a sensation
the chance of an ideal dream
a simple moment of elation
the monuments of the worst
uniquely ignored and neglected
simultaneously blessed and cursed
meaninglessness perfected
you are the cause of your exclusion
from the well of laughs and joy
you are the smirking intrusion
that our captors now employ

into the hollow depths
we parasites in paradise
preconceptions born in breaths
the humming art in artifice
this isn't how we pictured it
but even stars fall apart
leer in rooms temporarily lit
slump into a fresh new start
the product of the insurrection
ensured in acts of war
a humble impersonation
of the lies we’ve told before
inevitability in the present tense
we comfortably comply
the taste of innate inconsequence
under a slowly sinking sky

vast but empty spaces
surrounded by white walls
severely friendly faces
abundance of eyeballs
a perfect new cliché
wearing thinly concealed scenes
a planet full of time's decay
illuminated by our screens
another day rejected
through the blank pages we pursue
the banal and the expected
from the last crumbling few
the doomed attempt to disappear
not for a lack of trying
and so the final souvenir
is the hard work in dying
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