Trying not to write about the rain
The important, constant fresh
Freshly perfumed rain
My stylist, rain, I
Each subsequent customer notice
Fuckin' wet heads
I'm just a number to you,
right?
I can't even count you
Unless the answer is one. It's like
You have a
Vanity plate and
Bumper stickers that
Celebrate your half
Marathon completion
And I can't say shit
About your
Mommy daddy issues?
We see what we want in clouds
We wanna fuck
What we don't want in
Clouds that stood us up
Are those your tears on
My windshield of
Deaf ears, because I'm
"Bulletproof" I
Sing as I
Hydroplane into grass on
The dime-thick reflection of my face
And some filth I found
Then stop
The only sound left
The droplet dance
Bereft of my influence
Goes home with everyone
Else
How come I can't touch you?
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