How to Make a Human Being

T H U N D E R C L O U D

Dancing in the rain, maybe saved for another night

It takes courage to be that carefree, to spin around in a downpour and not give a fuck when the wind throws your shirt up in the air.

That girl, the one who dances in the rain, would laugh,

"There's Zephyr, back to spite me"

And then she would throw her head back as the thunder shook the streets, gusts of wind chilling the skin exposed by the rips in her jeans. Her torn shoes slipping out from under her and cackles into the dead of night.

Its 4:30 in the afternoon, hardly night

And "dead of night" is such an odd saying anyways. Have you even been out at night? There's life in every corner. There's a whole other universe that blossoms into being once the sun gives up.

That's what I tell the girl that wants to jump in puddles while the world stares.

Because she's trapped inside me, begging to get out

As I stand, feet tapping on the wooden floor, not out in the rain.

My lips grazing the ripped screen door,

Tasting the storm on my tongue. Like, dead flowers and raging rivers and sitting on a street corner downtown and feet slapping the pavement.

I'll just stand here, grazing the edge of my thumb against the doorknob.

That girl whispers into my ears "go outside, live"

But I can't take advice from her. Because once I start listening to the girl that wants to dance in the rain is when I start listening to the girl who wants to drive to the top of mountains at midnight and scream down to the city lights asking if anyone's got a cigarette.

She's locked inside my chest, too. She doesn't get let out much.

Because those girls who want me to get drenched by the glow of lightning will tear my life apart

Break it down into disorder, collapse it into mayhem. 

I have eight million devils pacing inside my skull and if I let them speak I don't think I'll ever get to go back behind the screen door because I'll be so 

Addicted to the adrenaline.