It rains tonight,
tonight, tonight it's not,
it's The night,
a bottomless pit,
a fur of vaporous stench,
a stinging haze,
the streetlights and the dripping grey walls
drown          ......
the rays of harmony are shattered,
there's blisters on the sidewalks,
a wound inside,
and it's pouring,
it's pouring, so stride, run,
escape the depressed
search for cuddles,
huddle yourself in the pig-like warm flesh,
leave to me the dark and the loathed to handle,
that goo of spongy rot is suave,
striped with veins,
it splashes on the ominous tar,
where are you fine? where?
are you,
it's like a folk song to me,
while you sing indoor,
i take my umbrella and drag my poor face against the grit,
unwelcomed as i am
i make a pair with the destitute weather,
soaked blackness,
the reverberation is shunned in an unmerited oblivion,
from where i snap out as a stick silhouette,
undeserving
un - un - un
the reticent night is my shelter.




and fuck the poetic pace, fuck Poetry
and what is arguably beautiful.




(pardon me, allow me to get defensive when i'm in the comfort of strangeness)