It Never Rains

through the clumsy strut of the clouds i could see the rain eager to fall. a deluge just beyond our world. constantly occuring. but never close enough to be real. the naked tortoise in bed with the hare. the race. long forgotten. skin like fables. more words than movement. want a weapon that always injures, but never kills. the dead in the shadows. favoring the silence. all those storms still refusing.

with paradise so close, she admitted the inherent flaws. of a utopia such as hers is. always wanting more. never having had enough. hardly a paradise at all. but lacking any apparent exit.

following the fireflies. their manic flights reminding her of casual sex. all arcs in the desolate sky. and ornate finials on shaky posts in her head. an hysterical gravity weighing down every step.

a rusty zipper in her throat. threatening to come undone. a song without music. A ladder waiting just outside of a window locked.

it never rains out there.

in here. it never stops.