Dead By December's End

[Underground_Network]

The cold December rain
Slammed down upon the ground
With an echoed thud
That rang throughout the
Desolate streets,
The alleyways abandoned,
The stores all closed
With the windows barricaded
And the doors triple locked.

The rain refused to cease
And the gray clouds grew darker
As slid over the sun, an obfuscation
Of the orange rays contagious
With December winds.

As the rain died down though,
A pulse ran through my varicose veins
And the sky opened up and
A blue horizon asseverated
The maritime wave of new emotion
In that oceanside city,
That urban center
Of pickpockets, shoplifters and worst of all
The sons and daughters of rich snobs
Who only know money
And will never know the sweet December wind,
The sweet caress of the December rain
That, alongside the darkness of the mid-autumn sky,
Is so delicate that it calms the soul
And suppresses the miasma of deep thought.

But I can feel the sweet caress fade into the facade
Of a deeper, colder time, an epoch of faithless fate
And desireless longing for an eternal method to cope
With life's complete three hundred and sixty degree surprises,
Spinning circles in front of square lives
That cannot compute the diameter and refuse
To square the radius or multiply by Pi
Just to find a deeper meaning
In something so simple, so soothing
As the sweet December rain
The rain that has now left the air
And stained my floor blood-red,
My varicose veins on empty
Like my fuel tank by December's end.