Reasoning with the Wind 2

Trenchcoats of skin making every one small. The rain deciding who we'd be next. Sad faces drawn in dirty clothes. Waiting for the floor to forget. The flood that made all these lies possible. Blisters on her eyes finally bursting open. The truth infects us. Makes us weak. Turns this drowning grey. Sparse deaths feeding perpetual comas.

At one with the paranoia of a healthy heart. Committed to the promise of loss.

I stood out in the rain memorizing each drop I was able to catch. Then I went inside and began subtracting how many I'd missed.

There was no counting involved. Just a lot of lions with their cages drawn on. And too many people with erasers.