inanis


nothing seems alive

only shapes behind violent streaks

endlessness

emptiness

unsanctioned, you drag forward, pressing to the glass

the hazy sky weeps

and you sink

with a nihilistic smile

you murmur

"nothing is real in the rain"

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This Poems Story

On my way home, I was sitting in traffic in the rain, and I thought about a boy in a glass box on the street, so I wrote about him.