what you make of it.

the pavement is awake. the rain hit the ground running. there's an idiot  screaming that it's sunny while the world around is flooding . I've come to grips that i can't hold on, but my redemption is a song of freedom and the beat goes on. There's a war within a war. Bones crack like fire that whips through the desolate shore, extracting the poor in the culture of more.
We're all a little displaced. I just wish the sun would shine for those with a different shade on their face. I wish the grace of humanity would touch all the inhabitants of the lost marble in space. I wish sometimes that i could be a monster with demonstrative rage, so the rain wouldn't feel so alone on this plague.
I couldn't feel more alone if i were the dried grass beneath an unwritten tombstone. If our lives are a flicker, my heart is the ash. The dismal and omnipotent stench of our past is wafting toward our future, seeping through foundation cracks. I am now awake with the pavement, and there's a peace inside of me that accepts uncertainty. With peace I'll always be.