Clear Skies

I feel everything is wrong, blatantly mad, even the sky, which is blue but not clearly sad. In fact, in endless despair, the gloomy grays share vastly more in common with my better days.

Symbiosis

How can I be anything more than someone in need of the rain? When there’s no one here beside me, no one to listen to my pain? If I speak to the clouds, maybe words will be captured in each drop. And they’ll spread out across the Earth, from sideways and bottom to top. She’ll…