it's raining, it's pouring, it's wet.

[w4ke_up]

The sky grew dark and it began to rain and
I had to go around and close
all of the windows downstairs.
I didn't go outside and jump in
puddles and let the rain take me like
the past few days but instead
I made some snacks and found some
paper and a pen in case
I was inspired, but I
never am anymore.
And I opened up the back door and
sat on the back steps,
the quiet lonesome ones
under the back light, where I'd smoke if
I ever had a cigarette. It rained harder
and harder. Impressive lightning bolts shrieked across
the sky followed instantly by
thunder that sounded as if
it were ripping the sky apart.
The ground shook. I watched the rain
pour off of the roof and the gutters
and I watched a spider become uncertain.
The steam rose off of the driveway and I
sat there alone and watching the rain fall
and I'd rather be no where else. And then
whoever was tearing the sky
apart decided to move on and soon
the thunder was far away and I went
inside and made some tea and the
sun came out and the fans were still
blowing inside of my house and it's quiet
and I wish I has some sort of inspiration
or some sort of creativity again like
I used to. I dreamed I was taking my pills
again, the ones that made me numb and dull
which would be a good excuse, but I think
I dreamed that while I was stoned, and stoned
isn't much of a inspiration anyways.