hell, or high water

It’s raining outside

again

not “again” as in it’s raining all the time lately;

raining again like it rains on the inside

and pours and pours at times

and leaves me deep in thought.

the inescapable

the idea, the thought

that drives home the questions in such a way

as to make me second guess

every

single

thing.

There is no solace in solitude

that’s the rub there

and unfortunately the words that pour over me

rain drops

from the not so distant

past

and

future

tend to make me shiver

with regret and anticipation

in one fell swoop.

Some said…

says, I might add

that everything and nothing

pile on like shag carpet and

lend themselves to

old beginnings and new endings

happy or sad notwithstanding

but in the center of it all there I am…

alone,

together,

swimming against the tide upstream

some strange species

on my own, in it again

when you…

giver of dreams,

speaker of words

preacher of fates and

the lunacy of the lies that

bind…

you, shrugging it off like some

misunderstanding-

never again

worthy of killing me

softly,

or otherwise