it’s raining

thunder rumbles outside and i sit with coffee and stare at it

my mind sees none of it though

inside i toil along with the raging storms

a hurricane of my own brain

lightning flashes leaving a purple after glow and still my eyes see nothing

the coffee grows cold in the mug as i blindly stare into the sky of gray

fat drops bounce off of the cars and windshield wipers like the swaying arms of the audience

but there is only one that draws my inner vision

the lone beacon of shelter

no matter how loudly i call to her the booming rattles the window and set off alarms that drown out my voice

and still i stand face up with mouth filling with the deluge while seeking to expell the longing that sizzles and cooks me from the inside

maybe i’ll succumb to this

this is how it ends

wrapped in metal denials and struck by the fiercesome bolts from the sky

yet i crawl on torn knees towards her

ever forward

ever on

the eye of the storm in the third eye of my being in my mind’s eye as i thread the eye of the needle to fall into her brown eyes and rest in her open arms

and it is all just occular nonsense

hidden currents in the storm

a maze with no opening and no end

o let the ball of yarn unfurl behind me and follow every curve and bend of the wall

to her

always to her

as the rain falls heavy upon the overcast fields of my head