There were rains

Night, Mirror, a talk.

There were rains.

I play with a dead flame

Of Wrath, Pleasure, Mercy.

Of Trepidations,

n miles f ennui.

I caress not.

Tease n twist it to wrought thugs to empathy.

Widening populace, its' pomposity,

n shrinking penitence.

My pin hole vista shares secrets.

There are rains.

Oppose such formalism

where "just" triggers titters.

I oggle at the diminuendo, its vivacity.

I oggle at those bellowing streets;

the lustrous eyes

blinking under dripping polythene;

denying pity, pitying the holocaust in which we revel-

rancid aristocrats.

Bounteous in romance,

glorified in their own right.

Categorically, here crops my revenge.

Red hot charcoal of a dead flame.

Hang your jaws over the conundrum.

There were rains....but not me.