Another night listening to the rain. I cannot stand the sound of
it, and I used to like it when I was growing up. Now the sound is
just a reminder of all my frustration with my life and the
emptiness of my exsitence. No matter what anyone tells you Seattle
rain isn't like real rain; it's more like a mist that gently
caresses the air and makes your skin damp. It's not like the rain
in the midwest where the lightening lights up the sky and the
thunder explodes in the air above your house on a hot summer night.
Hours spent listening to the roar of angry pagan gods, swords
clanging against eachother, turning night into day with each bright
flash. They open up their mouths wide and scream their battle
cries, loud enough for the universe to hear. A war is waged above
your head and you can feel it with every clash of metal, the
tiniest vibration in your bones,skin and hair. The sky gods
remember, every once in a while, the pain of human suffering. The
screaming inside your brain at all the wrongs you've had to endure,
and the suffocation and despair that only isolation can bring. Who
could bear this alone? The sky gods look down and take pity on us
and a battle is waged, furious and spectacular, to remind us that
for every silent scream, for every choked back tear, they have not
forgotten.
Don't tell me it rains in Seattle. It never rains in Seattle.
Another night listening to the rain. I cannot stand the sound of
it, and I used to like it when I was growing up. Now the sound is
just a reminder of all my frustration with my life and the
emptiness of my exsitence. No matter what anyone tells you Seattle
rain isn't like real rain; it's more like a mist that gently
caresses the air and makes your skin damp. It's not like the rain
in the midwest where the lightening lights up the sky and the
thunder explodes in the air above your house on a hot summer night.
Hours spent listening to the roar of angry pagan gods, swords
clanging against eachother, turning night into day with each bright
flash. They open up their mouths wide and scream their battle
cries, loud enough for the universe to hear. A war is waged above
your head and you can feel it with every clash of metal, the
tiniest vibration in your bones,skin and hair. The sky gods
remember, every once in a while, the pain of human suffering. The
screaming inside your brain at all the wrongs you've had to endure,
and the suffocation and despair that only isolation can bring. Who
could bear this alone? The sky gods look down and take pity on us
and a battle is waged, furious and spectacular, to remind us that
for every silent scream, for every choked back tear, they have not
forgotten.
Don't tell me it rains in Seattle. It never rains in Seattle.
Seattle Rain