long dripping notes harmonise their choir of drum
tapping away the lurking spirit
which so passionately sought our flower-ridden, scarred, lost in the alleways where melody was heard through windows and mellow-painted as crows among doves, hearts
they must taste so sweet if spirits of long-lost souls seek most generous drip of jazz or smoke or broken heels in them
these souls which wiped away by rain that never truely comes, so it stays in its ambiguity, chasing them far
and so it ought to have no purpose but to soak fringes and sneeze devils to the feet, and so it gains itself a half
which people make, which companions rain that purifies the earth,
and so the people ruin it with pleasure and filth and injustice and vividness of blurry colours of life
in these half rains i am torn, as to listen is to cry and to miss you is to die
