Refraction.

Flash-Flood.

It wasn't supposed to rain today,
And somehow it still takes me by surprise
That the forecast is an optimist.
This has happened too many times,
And the water levels are rising -
Rising from puddles to streams,
A flash-flood, roaring as it chases me
Down the street.
I suppose an umbrella wouldn't have been much help anyway.
I guess I could have used it as a little black boat,
But it wouldn't have stopped me from floating away.
I don't know where I am;
I squint at the road signs through the pouring rain,
But I may as well have not bothered,
For there is nothing written upon them.
The streetlights lurk in the depths, anglerfish trying to lure me down there,
Whispering that I ought to jump in.
I tell myself that I do not want to die; I tell myself over and over,
Then I realise that I sound as though I'm convincing myself.
What do I know, anyway?
I have jumped before, and yet I'm here again -
A voice whispers that I deserve the pain, that the coldness
Of the water is the only thing that will make me feel alive.
I believe him, and yet I am still balanced on the line
Between cowardice and death.
I don't think that I'm fond of either, and yet
I wonder how it would feel to touch a jellyfish,
To look a shark in the eye, all whilst thinking
That if I somehow stay afloat for long enough, this nightmare
Must eventually stop.
If only it were a nightmare,
And the grinning demon-fish didn't call to me...
I imagine that there's a safety in sanity that I'm yet to feel,
But I also know that I probably never will.
Perhaps it is for the best that I continue to sail in my little black boat
Until the water dries up once again.
The sirens will continue to sing, and I will have little choice but
To at least consider joining them,
But I think I can outlive them one more time,
And then I suppose I will do the same
The next time that the rain creeps in without warning,
Until either the rain stops returning or I am no more.
The realist in me agrees with the demon-fish,
We know that the rain is immortal and I am just flesh,
But I aim to die in my own time,
Not like this.
I will do all of the things that I wish to do
With this imperfect life,
And only during the next rain will I hop into
The little black boat;
Only then will I make love to the sirens
And greet the grinning demon-fish
With a smile of my own.