Walking in dim thoughts with the sound of rain outside. The dripping pattern takes me on a pitter-patting journey. I'm neither here, nor there, and yet somewhere I must be. Craving to be healthy, in mind, body and soul. Content perhaps? Aware of who I am and who I will always be. Is anyone like this? Really? Or are we a collected mass of android arms reaching lamely for robot parts? Artificial emotions that fester out like ***** mud shoes left in the hallway. We yawn internally to avoid the truth that we are bored with one another.
Raindrops continue, as does my doubting heart as it wraps around the possibility of funerals and Requiem Masses. Long faces and sighing masking the indifference of striving. Together in mood but far apart in disposition.
Carry on, rain, carry on. Slip your wetness against the dry spell of my perception. I can see. Or, I can close my eyes to imagine that the tomorrow of thought becomes the infested reality I will be living.
I spend too many careless storms wishing for other days to arrive.