The Restless Poet

I crave
The intimacy of the rain.
Drops of pearls
That seep into my soul.

Cleansing distant perturbation –
Sliding, staining, filling.
The breeze shudders the seal of afflictions buried under scars
Beneath the shadow of my breath.

The bulbous drops snake
Through the shanties in my throat.
Gurgling, choking, drowning.
An agonizing thief in disguise.

A panic of moonlit clarity,
Etching scarlet seams on the tender folds of my wrists.
The pale, unmasked visage
Illuminated in the pearls of compromise.