I AM NOT THE RAIN
I am not the rain that coats your soul, or the whisper in the wind, when your storm is brewing.
But, I am the fight that emerges from the naked abyss, like a paradox that drives men mad with lunacy of lucrative voices that speak in tongues. This is my Universe and you are my cult that springs into the volatile walls that absorb burning souls.
There is the richness of font soft and fuzzy like maroon velvet. The seductive voices embrace me with their tantalizing lies filled with fresh memories of my worlds I used to know. Yet, somewhere mixed within these falsehoods are mortal truths that command my attention to the creed that was trapped behind stone doors of my mind that refused to open until now. Well, I say, “Chatter away, my friendly foes, as if you were saviors of my being. For resting inside my heart’s golden pocket are trinkets of passion that cannot be stolen away from me.” Deep in the heart of darkness, you shall bring me to your leader, and enthrall me with your cathartic waves of delicacy, disguising horrific tales yet to be told.
But I am now your jailor that lays the bleeding river at your jaded feet, and I call out to my true savior to break your backs with his lashing tongue, and restore your bones back to their true nature, and emblazon your soul with the power of the RED SUN.