O rain…my censuring rain,
you dare not stop oozing from stars and other infinite moles today.
Moans and authorities would get crowning on your background…
Kisses, lips…rainy lips would touch upon each other’s slovenly beds.
I guess this city can commingle parades…parades to quantify the rain soaked neons.
Distances would break the sighs of miles…
Time has the power to dissolve the catastrophes into molecules,
So poets…smoke the ass of that ciggerate and make rains hungrier,
a zeitgeist of words.