the sky wakes us with rain that pits the pavement outside.
quaff acid, speak now with a ruined throat that sounds like
windchimes to my ears. the crystal clink of falsities and
micro-delusions that occur everytime you blink. what if
there were no mirrors, no reflecting lakes, and you only
knew what your face looked like by what people told you,
that you had blue eyes on tuesdays and brown eyes the
rest of the week and that both colors blur in my dreams
and i have to take a pill just to be able to fall back to sleep.
the rain will eat away at my memory and i will dowse for
where it collects behind your ears and in the small of your
back just to watch it sizzle in this chemical aftermath.