March 27, 2003

outside the city

(reworked from February 27, 2003)

i'm tired of the sun coming through the windows
bright and warm. fooling me from the icy cold doom.
my happiness it's not out in the blue of the day.
it's in the rain.
i miss it more then i think i do.
the rainy days, warm steamy nights,
it was part of me before i even knew.

i stand in my shower now,
trying to simulate the feeling of falling
of the water falling on my head,
but i have a flat head, flat head
and i can't seem to find the right mix
of empathy and rain. i feel it young, and busy
like the sound of the cars on the train
or the bus in the center of the city.
outside of safe. outside of the safety
that i grew for me
in the tinny little room where i watched it rain.
trying to figure out what? what to be
when i got big. when i found 'my own'.

behind my shower curtain i stand
trying to remember what it was that i had
in the gray of the rainy day
as it fell on my head
loud and busy
in the city that i loved
as i waited to see
if i would found what i went looking for
when i knew it wasn't ever there.

i rush the water cold to wake me up,
to stop my cry. i should stop,
stop myself from edging this point.
each time i think i can. cause you can't get it
if you don't know when to grab it first.
living is dieing
so i'll take it, take it all bitch.

before - after