Walking In the Rain

walking behind the others, beside the others and beneath the others. walking down a set of steps with a hollow metal rail. beside the rain beneath the clouds, the ribs of the earth seem to become so very clean and polished to me. arthritic rust in an ancient unearthed stoic form, aged in its mineral doctrine speaks that not all is clay. grasping the rail feeling the cold reach in through my palm. the metal feels so very whole to my skin allowing me to break a little inward and steady my self to look up. the rain falls continually around me, a little water in my eye scatters the gray light. I shall continue in this myopic reformation, im ony half diseased anyway. i dont want to see much and i dont feel the need to be comforted. now i am cold in the moist daylight, now i am translucient like a mist. i am no longer turning slowly in this world of corrosive half light.