the rain drops
fall in calamaitous
drops which slam
against the windshield

i stare at them
calculating chaos
as the insipid liquid
creates distortions
ohscuring the gray

the only thought
keeping me moving
in the deluge of
chilly bombardments
is it has to fucking
end eventually

whether i mean
the storm, the week
or this farcical life
even i am uncertain

feels like a smattering
of all three
incremental hells