By the Id

I’m lost in the utter violence of rain drops
And their insistence in significant existence
They wail, while flinging themselves towards me
And they’ll wreck themselves on glass
Till my windshield wipers whisk away their corpses, leaving ghost streaks
And I tell them they mean nothing to me
Until the right song is playing in rhythm to thunder-cracks
And they refract light into my eyes like epiphanies
So when the sun returns, I’ll be gratefully blind

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Copyright 2014 the Id
Published on Saturday, June 21, 2014.     Filed under: "Poetry"

Author's Note:

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Comments on "Torrent. "

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  • FadedBlues On Sunday, June 22, 2014, FadedBlues (2172)By person wrote:

    ... at war w/the driving rain. I enjoy the battle...

  • Magdalena On Sunday, June 22, 2014, Magdalena (616)By person wrote:

    Great detail and imagery in this piece... The rain makes its own song and I love listening to it in the silence.

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