Trickle
Trickle
Trickle
The rain taps softly on the window to my eyes and opens the blinds for them to see the phantasmic lightning shows overhead like glass shattering under the heavy steel of the hammer.
Tap
Tip
Top
The rain clinks and plinks against the window. The Sun has yet to raise his sleepy head from the bed of stars he resides on when Sister Moon takes watch over the seas below.
I am awake.
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts Surrounding My Hippocampus Late in the Evening
Poetryan ever growing collection of thoughts and word vomit that grows ever palpable in my mind by the days.
