Rain

The one good thing about rainy nights
Is the raindrops and the windows and the distant street lights
And the way they all play
In bespeckled array
To the lonely young man taking in all the sights

And when the rain picks up it pounds the black street
Forms the puddles as children we tried to cheat
Though we have laughed in the past
Gravity has the last
And huddles together the dark ghosts of our sad defeat

But there are days without water and a dry gutter drain
That air out the damp hollows of our muddled brain
And we're haunted, of course
But there is no remorse
Just a scar and a grin at the receding pain.

More Death...

I should think that when I die
My tired soul would give a sigh
Fight atrophy to squint an eye
A crooked smile, his last goodbye

And I should think that when I’m dead
That there’d be nothing in my head
A hollowed shell; the maggots fed
Not sentiment; the truth instead

And you, yes you, will someday soon
You cannot break what death has hewn
There is no hope; no whispered boon
To save you from its raspy croon