I saw a girl walk in the door,
Up the isle, and to the counter.
She ordered food and smiled,
Then sat down with her father.
I brought them their rice and chicken,
Politely saying rehearsed lines,
But all I could think was-
God, she looks like Carrie would now...

Nothing brings more joy to me,
Than dark skies and thunder claps,
Heaven's sprinklers dousing the land,
Pounding on roof tops, surging down drains.
The dark skies casting down life's very sustanance,
Bring on the floods of torrential rains,
I'm dying to dance in the streets,
And feel the water soak into my clothes,
Drenching me to the very core of my being,
Because I just can't get enough of dark skies.

When I stare off into the horizon,
and my mind wanders to and fro,
I begin to wonder.
Why is it that people dream?
Is there a reason for winter?
Why must things die?
What happens to you when
you pass on? Do you dissapear,
Or does your mind float into the sky,
Watching as other lives unfold below?
Why don't trees grow sideways?
Why are humans flightless?
Is there such things as dragons?
Do I have a twin, seprated at birth?
Why do I sneeze so oddly?
Does everyone think so deeply?
Am I alone in my wondering?
If people heard my thoughts...
Would they wonder about me?

For some odd reason I am atuned to rain.
I might be sleeping, working,  in a windowless room,
But some how I just know when it's about to rain,
I can smell it in the air, the dampness,
The aroma of moisture building up in the clouds,
Mounting up to one big expenditure as rain,
I can sense it. The rain is tangeble, yes, but to me,
The smell just before is tangable as well.
I smell worms on the sidewalks, squirmy and slimy,
I smell the mossy trees and the wet ferns,
Just before the first drops splash down upon them.
I get a whiff of the preluding aroma and it's entrancing.
The smells bring images of rain and storms, and with it,
A sense of happiness and calmness.
Rain washes away the filth and the grime,
It allows the Earth to be reborn again.
That whiff is all it takes,
To bring a smile to my face.

You can always tell,
Who the introverts,
Are in the summer,
Months, we're just so pale...

When the rain pelts the earth with crystaline droplets,
It feels like fists beating away at the pain and the hurt.
The knives in the drawer near my terminally inhabited bed,
Make much better projectiles then the words I once flung hatefully.
Shadows that stretched towards me with creeping hands at dusk,
Never felt so much like an embrase as when I was with Him,
Squirreled away inside the arms of security, cloaked in darkness,
Bathed in starlight, listening to the lullaby of the cicadas.
He is my reason to smile in the rain, to throw instead of spit,
To feel the warth and love of the darkness without any hate.
He is my true love, he gave me the night to wear in my mind,
Like a crown for a king, or a gown for a queen. He made me free.