The pool I carry is already full
And water just keeps spilling over
But my clothes are at a safe distance
As raindrops fall
And run into the concrete
Like a familiar scene
Under the yellow streetlights,
From my living room window
I imagine
The rain outside
Is sterile
As I only look at it
A dull ache pulls me towards the floor
And eats up all my strength
And my feet get cold
I wait for my body’s cyclical shedding of layers within
I could never adjust
My ears still lose their sharpness
I hear dull voices
My ears still lose their sharpness
I hear dull voices
Just like that time
When I could only hear
But could not see
Anything
I am aware of the raindrops on the ceiling
Above the white walls
And that monotone of Ms Godbole
As she scribbles derivatives on the white board
In her beautiful handwriting
Are you alright? She asks I think,
I wish someone would carry me outside
But some four people will have to move
Before I can get out of my row
And throw some water on my face
And I would come out from the blackout
Just for a second
Lucid
Outside that aseptic math classroom
With my head on concrete
Water running down my chest
And my wet hair
Sticking to my forehead and ears
Under the pelting rain
The first thing I would see and hear
The first thing I would see and hear
Is the wind in the trees
And I would know then
The smell of rain
And I would know then
The smell of rain
