it just doesn’t. it never does.

it just doesn’t rain on the summer of discontent. desperate thirsts remain unquenched, fluid desires evaporate without a trace and salt-sweat leaves ghastly, ghostly forms on starched cottons. the clock ticks in a continuous cycle of hope and hopelessness, empty spaces between two seconds waiting to get filled in by pitter-patter.

none.

it just doesn’t rain on the summer of discontent. browns ache to turn green but wilt in disappointment, pregnant gray clouds frown like a woman scorned, threaten with thunder but refuse to deliver. heat is cold to sentiments desperate to escape out of a pressure-cooker head, find a life, an expression. breathe.

none.

it just doesn’t rain on the summer of discontent. it never does.

~ by deep purple on July 10, 2009.