Rain pelting on the window pane
Growing stronger every second
Each solitary drop containing something unique
Something more than hydrogen and oxygen
Much more
Ironically, it isn't raining
My window is dry
Open, in fact, to the immense black
Where whispers are permitted to pass through the dirty screen
Only to be drowned by the stale drone of a radio
Speaking of ironic...
In between my ellipses is a space anything but sterile
Anything but lifeless
Almost like the time before the sun's
Tonight should never end
Even though the clock indicates it already has
Tonight isn't wonderful, or overtly terrible
It's closer to mediocre
Perhaps holding onto the shards of night postpones the morning
At least in some insignificant way
That matters regardless
Watching the third become the fourth
And so on.
Nonsense doesn't make as much sense after sunrise
