Posts Tagged ‘street’


Sky’s dark and grey, while the wind screams around the corner of the street, carrying fresh leaves and old dust. The sky looks so interesting in a mixture of heavy clouds, but somehow, the focus of action stays on the ground level.

While the rain might start any second now, the peace before the storm is long gone, maybe from the second the clouds started gathering on the sky, the second the wind started blowing… all I can certainly feel is the emptyness around, in both outside and inside my soul.

It feels so cold, so dark, so hollow, it makes me wanna scream and laugh, it makes me feel better and worse in the same time. The nature had once again come to play with my fragile person, torturing and fondling me, but I can’t ask for nothing more…

The rain may never start again from what I care… it will be fine just the way it is, in this endless prelude of fine taste.

It may never start again from what I care… it will be just perfect…


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It’s raining all again, after such a long time. I almost forgot the sound of the splashing water against the concrete, the smell of my street in rain, the image of the sky, the heavy clouds, the pressure and the psycho-spiritual relief, but someone up there has not forgotten me, or maybe that’s just a random natural phenomenon. Who knows? Who wants to know? I just want to sit back and enjoy the symphony of the water, that essential chemical element, the source of all that lives on Earth.

Nevertheless, people are blind, deaf and insensible. They leave the street, they ignore the song, they look apart and close the windows of their houses. Why? How I’d want to understand them. Am I a freak? Don’t think so. I just love the rain and until the day I will pass away I will still be incurable in love with the rain.

I’m closing for now as they raindrops get thicker and stronger and I want to be there, in the middle of it, to sing and dance at unison with Mother Nature. Let it rain, hard and mighty, like the world would end tomorrow, like we’d see no other sun, no other day…

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I got out last night. The sun was hidden beyond the heavy clouds. He was waiting for his shift to end. The moon, at a throw of a stick, around the corner of the sky, was waiting for its turn to enlighten the world.

The rain finished. I could still smell that fresh and gloomy perfume in the air. You would think the rain had scoured all the filth and all the scum, out of the street. You wouldn’t be more wrong! The dark creatures, the hour of transgression and decadence, all of them were slowly coming alive, alive like they never were, alive like a thirst of the water that had just been spilled.

The psychedelic mixture of colours, the glaring neon lights and the shadows of the night…what a creepy picture! The harsh sound of the horns and the dreadful shrieks…what a dreary symphony!

The hunters are waiting. The dreams live no more. The hell moved out there. The steam of the sewers heralds the purifying fires of the underground, ready to burn and clean the misery of the above. The rain felt from the upper…it washed away, but haven’t cleaned the filth. It can never do. The condition from above can never help the one from downstairs. It’s the nature.

Fire. Purifying fire. Almighty fire. Apocalyptic fire.

In a corner of the street, under the light, a humble man stays. He’s watching. The hell looks like heaven to him, the shrieks sound like symphonies, the devil seems to be an angel. He feels a different way than me. He is happy, he is content, he is drunk, drunk of that beauty he sees on surface, drunk of a lie. He is blind.

I, on the other side, see straight open. There is no beauty in anything. There is nothing to enjoy…just the ugliness, the pain and the nonsense. A futile picture of minds, living in bad constructed dreams, lying themselves, being death as they’re alive.

It all started with the rain. The filth, the scum. It starts raining again. It starts all over. The same tragedy. The fire might be extinguish, the fire that burns in my heart…I don’t like it at all. I just love it more and more…

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"Futility of futilities, all is futile"


"Live to the point of tears"