and some days I'm in the darkness. Some days I find myself lying in the street, beneath the glow of the the lamps. The ground is either damp, and I can feel it soaking through the back of my shirt and it makes me cold, or it's too hot, and the blackened tarmac radiates warmth and my head becomes hazy.
I let the rain wash away all the thoughts in my head and I know that I am crazy but I can't care because who can see me now? Unless they look out their windows of their bourgeois homes with the silk and cotton mix curtains, how are they to know that there's a crazy girl under their window? I'm not even worried. I'm almost lying there yelling hey, come find me rain, give me the best you've got because what's the worst you can do? You can only drench my shirt and down out this feeling and I'm pretty sure I could cope with that.
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