Closed doors and muttered lies We’re home free and home sick (of me);
Those feet are cold under warm sheets
And there isn’t anything but
Hope(lessness) wrapped around
Me.

No music tonight (rain is my melody)
Nothing can lull me to sleepless nights
Like these (with the hail of our harmony)
Sterilized symphonies.

Don’t mess with time unless you
Will, yourself of history books and wheel chairs
(apologetically no pills)
With these four-day forecasts, bled to the
Mouth sang
Sunshine today (but the clouds suited it better)
All we got
Was rain.

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A.A. Ironically raining, but that doens't help the case of the indecisive. I might feel a collection of these, perhaps.