Pitter
Patter
Pitter
Patter
The pattering sensations are eminent on your skin
You bring yourself together and watch as the rain accretes into a small pool in the cup of your hands.
It feels nice,
To have a little bit of the world to yourself.
Even if it’s just for a moment
The water slips through your fingers,
Leaving your palms bare.
In the dismal wreckage and moist debris,
Only traces of what used to be remain.
Swoosh
Patter
Swoosh
The remaining droplets of water find their way into your sleeve
And run hastily down your arm.
One
at
a
time.
The contrast between the piercing cold of the water and the metabolic heat of your body is searing.
But this is what the psyche craves.
The laceration will only ever be a component of your subsistence.
An unavoidable prospect.
When you’re down and battered.
Wrecked and tormented.
Left to rot.
As the cascading downpours cauterize your skin,
You finally discern the truth,
To how can one truly experience raw vitality.
Through tribulation,
In its raw essence.
Bang
Swoosh
BANG
Thunder strikes against the lampposts, vaporizing the metal, withdrawing gaseous residue and singed incineration in its midst.
The rain gushes violently against the anemic concrete road.
There you were, standing there in the middle of it all.
Soaking wet, cupping your hands,
As salt emerged from the lacrimal glands in your eyelids.
Trapped in a plane of existence different from those that surrounded you.
Melancholic.
That’s what you were.
What you’ll never cease to be.
Drip
Patter
Drip
At last, the precipitation begins to subside.
Leaving an atmosphere of moisture and humidity in its wake.
The smell of resonant petrichor engulfs the surrounding vicinity.
The scent emerges pleasant.
A mix of
chlorine,
dopamine,
and relief.
Candles burn for an indefinite amount of time.
You think as the scent starts to reek of
Oxidation
and smoke.
Relief engulfs you in the form of sublimation.
As you evolve into a gaseous state,
Drift across the zephyr,
And
into
the
stratosphere.
To prepare for the next rainy day
To prepare for the next,
Pitter
Patter
Pitter
Patter
Jan 8
Jan 8, 2026 at 11:10 PM UTC
Pitter
Patter
Pitter
Patter
The pattering sensations are eminent on your skin
You bring yourself together and watch as the rain accretes into a small pool in the cup of your hands.
It feels nice,
To have a little bit of the world to yourself.
Even if it’s just for a moment
The water slips through your fingers,
Leaving your palms bare.
In the dismal wreckage and moist debris,
Only traces of what used to be remain.
Swoosh
Patter
Swoosh
The remaining droplets of water find their way into your sleeve
And run hastily down your arm.
One
at
a
time.
The contrast between the piercing cold of the water and the metabolic heat of your body is searing.
But this is what the psyche craves.
The laceration will only ever be a component of your subsistence.
An unavoidable prospect.
When you’re down and battered.
Wrecked and tormented.
Left to rot.
As the cascading downpours cauterize your skin,
You finally discern the truth,
To how can one truly experience raw vitality.
Through tribulation,
In its raw essence.
Bang
Swoosh
BANG
Thunder strikes against the lampposts, vaporizing the metal, withdrawing gaseous residue and singed incineration in its midst.
The rain gushes violently against the anemic concrete road.
There you were, standing there in the middle of it all.
Soaking wet, cupping your hands,
As salt emerged from the lacrimal glands in your eyelids.
Trapped in a plane of existence different from those that surrounded you.
Melancholic.
That’s what you were.
What you’ll never cease to be.
Drip
Patter
Drip
At last, the precipitation begins to subside.
Leaving an atmosphere of moisture and humidity in its wake.
The smell of resonant petrichor engulfs the surrounding vicinity.
The scent emerges pleasant.
A mix of
chlorine,
dopamine,
and relief.
Candles burn for an indefinite amount of time.
You think as the scent starts to reek of
Oxidation
and smoke.
Relief engulfs you in the form of sublimation.
As you evolve into a gaseous state,
Drift across the zephyr,
And
into
the
stratosphere.
To prepare for the next rainy day
To prepare for the next,
Pitter
Patter
Pitter
Patter