The same old rain
7:05 a.m.//11.09.06

Mood: exhausted

The designated time has approached, and I temporarily retire to my comforting lonliness. And the weather and I are in a singular state, the downpour of misery; the enticeing hopes of better days. I am a repellent. I am deceived. I am in love with the bomb. I could turn and go. I could never return. I'd leave behind a quickly evaporating scent trail and my face would be forgotten even more quickly than it was recognized.

They gather and talk about exclusive familiarities. And some tip their hats while others mistake you for a window surface. I look so deeply that I drown in the undertows of despairing analyzation. These emotions are so repetitive that I have visible scarring only to certain people who have certain capabilities.

And perhaps their initial judgements are correct. Perhaps I am a monster. And maybe I'd leave them for dead if approached with the oppertunity


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