Sunday, June 8, 2008

clouds of doubt.

Unsettled, his gaze found the grey clouds surrounding the frame of the train's carriage window. Outbound from the city, it hit him that he'd allowed the storm to roll in without bringing an umbrella to shelter him from the acid rain that began pouring from clouds of doubt that had formed from the vapour of a lake of the day's events.

Walking to the station he'd tried irrigation, in attempt to disperse the small ocean of hurts that had emerged from the earth in a quake of distaste. They'd exploded and flowed into a crater the shape of hate. Like most natural disasters it wasn't forecasted and at it's dawning he'd underestimated it's lasting such a long time.

It was a hurricane of feeling; sweeping him from his feet, dropping him in a wilderness unfamiliar. Proceeding with these new surroundings he explored, trying to find a way out. Every corner looked the same and the names of the street signs were all moments in time that he remembered with her. And though she'd severed all ties that afternoon he didn't think that he'd be so lost, so sudden. So soon.

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