The rain.

There is a strange place between dreams and reality, this place of indecision where the past still lives breathing and waking, biting and scolding with old used up words, with pre thought out judgements on our lives. It is this werid reality of false hope inside someone else's possibilities of love becoming brand new with a simple thought, with a slight change. and we wonder around like zombies with mindless beginnings, and we search through tunnels.
It is strange to hear the same voice I have heard for lifetimes, to wonder around empty cities with the echo of words I used with strangers, with the one night stands who couldn't stay hard. and I sit inside the words of make believe and the many different versions of I love you, and listen to the pounding of rain.