How beautiful art thou; rain.
Pittering and pattering, into nothingness.
Dripping and dropping in a steady beat.
Splitting and Splattering but soothing.
What a feat.

How beautiful art thou; rain.
Small and light, crystal and clear.
Sent from the heavens above.
The gentle weeping and tear.
What a sight.

How beautiful art thou; rain.
With soft drops to the loudest of splashes.
Big but small, quiet but not so.
Call upon the lightening, your company.
What a sound.

How beautiful art thou; rain.
Washing away sadness and bring new life.
Day or night, you see through everything.
Morning or evening, your steadiness fails to change.
What a night.

comfortable silences
are like a third space
found in the phone calls
of Hazel Grace
and Augustus Waters

they hold their own infinity
with the power of words
unspoken
because nothing needs to be said
in a place of mutual silence

The harm leaves no mark
No scars to be seen,    
Horror in the dark
Hid its face obscene,    

Tasteless jokes begin                               
Real pain to deride,
The secrets within                                
At any cost hide.
                                                          
Secrets weighing down
Ending the joking,                                
Smile turns to a frown                              
It's the reckoning.                                

Out into the light
Truth is now revealed
Casting away blight  
Childhood wounds thus healed

we all hate loneliness
but we choose to ignore
we all say we're sad
and that life is a bore

oh time to explore
only to capture it on camera
and then we leave that whole area
to post it online

i mean we're inside,
most of the time
sitting behind devices
writing words that rhyme

we're happy with crime,
until it takes a live,
but you'd be contributing
if she was still alive

so tell me now
how does it work
we dont know intelligence
but we know how to twerk

prepubescents saying **** now
when we used to say ****,
i wish it would change, now
if only words worked