Damn the Rain

floodwaters pour out my ears like some Black Plague fountain with spitting angels life can be hard to look at images spilling into boots filling with blood and ignorance everyone a con artist of some sort on the inside if not the outside can't be avoided even for saints maybe worse for them with their eyelids ripped off to a ghastly panoply of suffering that meditation can't touch that subjective blinding can't anesthetize we somehow feel guilt for it all instead of hunting down the guilty and driving a hand hewn stake hard into their 3rd eye we'd rather shrug and justify duck down a hooker's alley bake a cake pet a doggy watch paint dry mop the floor than roll the dice and learn to swim in it like black swans