"With your tiny drops,
Can you obliviate my memory?"
I ask the rain;
I am scared of the happy ones,
For I know,
I can never live them again.

Caught by showers in the wild
We hide beneath a tree
The snake is in your eyes
And the apple is my lips

* *

Eden’s’ reach
Translucent touch
Fingers trickle down
I watch the glow
Into your irises
I catch the flow
At the corners of your mouth

* *

Translucent fingers’ touch
Trickles down your face
Slowly close your eyes
And every drop is me

Flood is rushing down
The trenches of my palm
Falling into view
And every drop is you

Sleep escapes me.
I've felt feint clues of what laid dormant in my mind for so long.
The chemical key unleashed it and now.
Now I'm consumed by it.
In the waking hours it stabs.
Stabs.
Stabs!, at the frontal cortex of my brain like a railroad spike being driven into the ground.
The tears, the feelings, they've all floated away before the coming storm.
The mixture of taurine, caffeine, sugar, and citric acid has a slight burn as it slides down my throat.
It's been raining for a month.
Everyday I walk through it.
I let the droplets drip down my lenses.
It somehow adds a small bit of feeling, a short moment of tranquillity watching them slowly stream across the front of my eyes.
I reach the cafe, the same spot everyday.
I pretend to read but I spend hours watching the ripples form on the sidewalk through window pane.
This is the second, third day without slumber.
Vision is less clear with each passing hour.
No matter, it's still there in my mind.
And now I'm in public there's no escape.
Is this all I am now? Is this all there is?
I wonder what she's doing? I wonder who she's doing?
She's so cold anyway, no passion for life.
I'm the same in some ways but at least I'm taking initiative, taking steps to improve, at least I don't settle for the mundane.
She wasn't good for you!
I keep convincing myself over and over.
The repetition itself is maddening!
Sleep escapes me.
I need sleep to escape.
She's not in my dreams anymore.
She wasn't good for me.

[The lines of the hands formed a complex map]

Reality strikes
The days pass by
Two lines
Different seasons
Separate stations

[Reality hitting on the rocks]

Curve line erasing the good things of the past
2 drops of water falling on the way to the office
  |        |
  |        |
  |        |  Old soundtrack passes over parallel tracks
Theater full, broken line

Days pass and pass
Birthdays pass, not words
Difficult to pretend to be well
No words happen

Places I’m not, line closed
Places you are not, closed line

Romanticism doesn’t feel the same as maps on our maps
2 parallel drops fall
|                               |
The game hits me against the rocks
You don’t follow me in a straight line

[Reality catches me]

there are no words
there is nothing
thick fog

The same lines
Now they are parallel
Your reality hits

[The lines in my hand no longer form a map]

   - Codelandandmore // 4:00 PM ©

Crystal beads of sweat
It's the beginning of a flood
Their translucence reveals an anguish
That is growing underneath
Causing them to swell
A great heaviness pulls
There is no resistance
They start a lowly journey
Moved in surrender to greater will
As the purest heart crumbles
One drop follows after another
Forming glistening streaks
Along a spotless brow
The tender heart soon shatters
Under the weight of woe
Drops fall to the ground
Like glistening shards of crystal
Where the beads first surfaced
A single crimson drop forms
It slowly paints a stripe
Down that stainless skin
It rolled along the hairline
Over the cheekbone to the jaw
In a moment of uncertainty
It clung there at the edge
With no alternative to release
The final hold was given up
Like a rose petal it fluttered down
Gently landing in dampened earth
Where sweat and tears first fell
At this silent touch of crimson
Broken crystal drops transformed
Color slowly deepening
Dirt glittering with garnets
Each hearts' filth was covered
But their purity had this stain