“I hope you find a way to be yourself some day
In weakness or in strength”-Honest, The Neighbourhood
the rain is relentless in its lack of rhythm
its lack of pattern in pattering continuously
its stubborn need to drown this city.
it falls and all i can do is try not to scream at the feeling
those grey sheets bring-of imprisonment, of being
shut away from whatever it is i think lies on roads
clean of swollen puddles and
bare knees skimming brown tinged water.
the ceaseless lashing of waterdrops
has quenched my thirst for hope,
extinguished its burning call,
washed away the yellow paint i dabbed onto my thoughts.
i drift around home all day wondering
why my eyes feel so heavily wrinkled
my eyelashes keep flicking
the darkened hollows beneath them.
“i have so much to do”
listless voice yet again, unsure of which way to choose
so much to do and
nothing done, nothing begun.
barred access to the outside by these threads of
rain criss-crossing to form a cage,
i have too much time to wander, to doubt, to ask
but the questions are released
from my own manacles
slightly mangled and twisted into barbs.
they walk into the stench of stagnation and
build a network of glue-grey roads across my dreams
that force my feet to stay stuck in place
as soon as I take my very first step.
there will be days filled with sunshine in blue skies
that make me long for darker shades,
hope is resistant to any chances of extinction,
there is more than the incompleteness i create,
there is happiness beyond these concrete roads
-i’d call them lanes to make them sound romantic
but lanes remind me of crooked cobblestone streets
and cafes with warm coffee and Paris and if i
called these rough monstrosities lanes, i’d be lying-
drenched with rain i regret ever asking for.
i will step across these cemented lines
my doubts have painted
to the universe beyond
and maybe there i’ll find my answer to
who i’m supposed to be.
all that home reminds me to ask is
whether i’m doing the right thing.