the rain falling in sheets down the windows
they form the perfect setting for a horror movie
not those Western kinds, mind-
give me Japanese ghouls peering into the bus' windows that I sit across from,
give me Malaysian banshees crawling on the roof of the bus.
Lord, give me a gruesome death, one that I have to fight for:
give me some spirit, some passion that will rise within me and consume me wholly, this need to live:
the fire that does not exist now.
The rain continues on pouring.