it's raining again. It's been raining a lot lately. I rush outside with jars usually, tonight I sit under and I fill myself up. my hair clings to my neck my face my soul. I close my eyes, dipping myself in and out of the sky's tears in hopes that she'll never recognize the difference if I were to be extracting tears of my own. There will soon be no distinction between me and the wet. catching a breath, I peer up I blink so much I'm surprised I can find the clouds They shield Gaia from the cold I count the stars, though I mistake the majority of raindrops for the plasma. So I tilt down, face to Hell my hair curtains around me as if a cat had torn them into nothing but clumpy pieces of string, and recognize the puddle of a person, through blurry sockets, that I can no longer hide from.
I'm in a weird writing mood. I don't write many long things anymore, though, as we see
I can view the places of rain memory.. Where the puddles gather ready to be taken by to the sky.. The sun calls to the waters... And slowly takes it back to the clouds.. You had to kiss the earth before you become and Ocean.. And soon you will become a tide to greet the Earth again.. Only this time the moon will call to you to do so..