Raining in the Fire

Raining in the Fire

We cosmo creatures don't know how to deal with the rain. We only get out to feel the liveness of wet grass. My black sneakers were jazzed on the top of green, fresh by the tearing summer sky. Steeled souls, are very much chained in this vanity city, where nature and beauty is rarely apprecited, where fate is roomed on face value.

I am not talking; I have lost my mouth. My tongue is cut into pieces, and my giddy nerves, giving away to the energy waiting for a good burn. A cage, a concrete bubble, a humiliated console, a wide, suffocating web, a bruised faithless can. Here you are so unreal, so high with your own sacred thoughts, so holly with your loneliness, so light being someone that is none.

Cease fighting against yourself, no matter how hard it gets to the real. The result must be shocking, in the end you are your runninng figures on a computer keyboard. Flow me, float my thoughts, turn me into Muriel Spark, yet not quite. Women, the magical word, your language kills.

The day you lose yourself entirely, you scoop up the world. Afraid the moment would come; afraid it never comes. Right and wrong, good lesbian lovers, till death do they apart. We are so trapped, in a game we mean and a way we rain. Life is big, wild with the infinite and yet tiny with human sins.

Looking and keep searching, how would your life just immerce in rain? Sentences already broken into sparks of your fire, hotty warm, like the modena depth of a womb. You do not give a shit of how they civilize you, how they reason the demons in you; you are only a floating river, your salt melting into the big sea, where you ever belonged.

Yellowed memories, still haunting, became certain color you avoid. You are fear yourself, trying to tame the uneasy wolf. At night, they haunt, and you are not an ordinary creature.