Rainy-Day Matters

Empty spaces coming to life in this home for the dead. You are vacant in all the ways I need you to be full, and incomplete where I need you to be whole. Synchronized like a clock counting down to disaster- I see ruin in your eyes. Don't be so assured of your survival; Not a thing here has been deemed yours to keep. Nor mine, for that rainy-day matter. Sink these wretched bones deeper, let me feel the point of no return. Allow me through your threshold, let me into the black place you've called home. These long years have passed us by, and put wrinkles to your smile. Unpenetrable to forces unfelt- my body has become your canvass; my desires are now yours to take.