I’m standing in the rain. It soaks my tank top and jeans and sneakers. It soaks my weave, my bones. I’m standing with my face turned upward, wanting more. I want the rain to fall faster, harder. I want it to hit me like stones, to wash against me like the waves of a tsunami. No, I want the rain to wash me away, take me where the water goes. I pull off my top. I want the rain to beat my chest, to soak my heart. I want it to fall on my heart. How else can I stop it from bleeding? The rain beats me, the sky is bleeding. Nature weeps with me. I let the tears soak me. I scream. It comes out as a gurgle. The rain water chokes me. I take off my shoes, my socks. They’re too heavy. There is only so much I can carry. I feel the mud with my toes. My feet sink in. My heart bleeds still. The rain beats me. I can’t see the sky. I can’t feel my tears. The cold makes my fingers numb. I can’t feel. I lie in the mud. The rain will beat me till my heart stops bleeding.
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