Every time it rains

[j4]

Got into work early, before 8 a.m., to escape the storms. Thunder and lightning inside and out. I thought it would clear the air when it broke, but underneath the clouds there's only more clouds. Wet hair from the rain, and just a dull ache from everything else.

I hate this town, these fields; this flatness, and a heavy horizonless sky that comes smothering down like a blanket of gas, like a burden of guilt. There's nothing here but dark nights and dull mornings, and a wall-eyed greyness like water-bleached bones inbetween. Out there in the half-light nameless faces are farming emptiness, treading the soil until the shadows come tearing up through the cracks. Words do not survive for long in this atmosphere; they emerge as grudgingly as teeth through iron gums, and once they have torn out a reluctant hole in the air they rust and decay, scarring and hardening into silent hurt.

I hate every ragged fragment of it, and it does not notice, and I would hate that most of all if I had the will to do so.

Comments

weather with you

[addedentry.livejournal.com]

The sodden shore and the crisp mountain don't notice you either. None of this cares for us.

It's frustrating when storms don't clear the air: all that energy for no progress. Then you need patience instead.

out-patience

[j4.livejournal.com]

I know you've exhibited the patience of angels in steadfastly enduring all the happiness and success that this uncaring world has thrown at you. It must be very difficult. What's your secret?

Awful Place

[anat0010.livejournal.com]

And I was born there. Head west and you cross flat emptiness until you hit Bedford. Heading north its even worse, only the isle of fun and whackiness that is Ely breaks the monotony. And east ? ummm Bury St Edmunds.
The only hope lies southwards, and the only distraction is the ancient art of Thai Gut-Fu as served at 'The Wrestlers'.