morpheus awakes

i don’t stop for the rain.
let sneakers be soaked and
skin be roused to frigid resilience.
i don’t give a damn.

life doesn’t cease for every grey cloud.
along the road by the marina,
the silhouette of a raccoon forages
against the vigilant eye of a street lamp;
he knows crayfish don’t wait
for the skies to clear.

no, i won’t stop for the rain,
not when thirsty muscles can only be quenched
by the nectar of exertion,
not when these electric bones can strike the asphalt,
proudly rivaling the patter of puny droplets,
every pounding footfall
louder than thunder.

i don’t stop for the rain.
no, i never stop for the rain.
because the rain sure as hell
never stops for me.

this blog might undergo periods of neglect
due to this and that.
my apologies.

as you trudge along, be warned:
these days become thick as barbwire,
fraught with tiny lacerations.

still, be strong.
toughen your skin,
only as much as it must be
to salvage that precious blood

and keep your heart warm.

~ • ~

despite the equation fumbling towards balance,
variables of ruby light and plush couches
and mild poison softening the formula,
still, he could not bend his mind
to reconcile

x (what she wanted) with
 y (what he wanted to give).