It's Raining

It's raining worthlessness


Pounding hard


upon a window sill.



Rusted windows
it's raining worthlessness
out on every
street corner.



No one should have to


Spell


it out to one as
big eyed as you.


You just decide to

close
your eyes to the world
to the window sill
that pounds like a broken heart
that throbs to be heard
throbs to live.


Breathe it in
like smoke from a pile of burning
sticks.



You still don't realize
your eyes are closed.




It's raining



tar

as black as the crap
you hack up.


Worthlessness
black, grey, and travel worn.



Felt tip markers
have said more
then what you ever could


about the dull, bland surroundings
that surround you
and the filth that pollutes you
every single day.



Days will come
and
days will go by.


Rememberance comes and goes.


(If I were to
tap
your shoulder
with my barren

black heart
I have a feeling you would feel nothing.)




Black was
always
the colour of my heart.


Blue
the colour of my veins.



I stand alone
in some dark and musty cellar
staring blankly at a wall

screaming,
shouting,

searching for a way out of here.



Crying


Dying.


Rememberance comes and goes.


It's here one day
one minute
one nanosecond
and the next
it vanishes without a trace.



I will be fore-gotten


lost among the books
on a dusty bookshelf
that no one looks at anymore
that no one breathes on anymore.


They stopped
reading
stopped
caring long
ago.


The world stopped caring.


I will perish
when what we
know
as time
collapses,




when we learn how to


destroy

that too.



I will burn to release myself.


For-gotten
in a pile of books
in an age where few can read.


Decaying books
rotted by pollution.


A modern middle age.


Rememberance will come and go
and when it does




I want to vanish with the rain.