my soul is stuck in old, coastal towns; a cup of strong coffee in hand; i can drown in its taste mixed with my heartbeat running amok.
the sound of the rain threatens to deform the roof, as if the midnight sky was trying to read her sadness out loud to the unmarked graves beyond my ribs; as if the raindrops were prison guards chasing after my soul, waiting to cage it back in place.
the broken clock tells me it's still midnight, but for all i know, it may yet be another sleepless night kinda monochromatic daybreak and
i can no longer tell which is louder — the storm inside my head or outside.