THERE IS ICE IN MY HEART
AND BLOOD ON MY HANDS
WE ARE HERE ON EARTH
FOR THE DESTRUCTION  OF MAN


WE ARE DESTROYING OUR PLANET
AND CREATING WAR WITH MANKIND
WE WILL NEVER FIND PEACE
IF WAR IS ON OUR MIND


IF WE PUT ALL THE DESTRUCTIVE FORCE
INTO THE POSITIVES OF LIFE
OUR FUTURE FOR OUR KIDS
WOULD NOT BE FULL OF STRIFE

Maybe we thought we were ironic.

Poor kids

throwing money on train tracks

to watch it flatten,

lose all value.

Sick kids

driving too fast and too far.

Tired kids

staying out too late.

Kids.

Talking through the hard parts.

The bad bits.

The most painful days.

We lived them all.

We were kids.

when the language of rain
is in need of
translation.

when the parallel lines
have
crossed.

when observing the time
by the pizza boxes
arching
toward
a ceiling fan.

when pages of
stories are skipped
to the end unread.

rain touches the lonely,
rain is weaving  
the hearts
with dreams.

rain colors the lonely
arching in color
touching the sky.  

droplets  of water
through your window glass
tapping of comfort
of watering eyes.