Oh What monstrous natural deformity are you…
Who with uttered words wallows me!
in seas of nostalgia,
as if the sheer tune of your engulfing speech,
attuned in me! a weather forecasting radar.

 
Thus,
Rain!
Rain!
Hypocrite cloud!

 
That with an umbrella in right hand,
And boots in my feet,
your feign droplets of deception
slip past my clothes.

 

 

Thus
Rain!
Rain!
Hypocrite cloud!

 
That with a coat and a lit-candle in left hand,
I’ll hear your drops, blip plinkĀ splash
songs onto the gullible asphalt
of these empty roads.

 

 
Right here,
Right there,

 

 

In the sewers
of these grandiose and splendid cities,
Streaming in, will be your words.

Written by: L.L.

October 3, 2014

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