Dave Matthews, past 3am.

and the heavens just washed things over again and my 12th floor musings are about going home and walking along somewhere during afternoons there, watching the wrinkles time has lovingly etched on my home city, then seeing the new skin sticking out in most places now, and again seeing the way it gets dark here again, suddenly making me feel much cleaner and freer, even if older.

and up here, the buildings are still safe from sight, I can imagine cold mountains beyond the mixed decadence and progress of this city, I guess my thoughts really want to go home along with me, even if they reach my destination first before me, then looking out again, knowing that a few hours from now the dim hazy outlines of these buildings will show, gray and unnatural in the gloom of this continuous drizzle, and it makes more of my thoughts want to be warm in the sheets of my bed and your hands and Rain's diminutive embrace.

but I guess, I'd have to sleep first, and that hint of blue creeping in the black stillness of my 12th floor horizon is just assurance that I'm still here, semi-stuck and wishing, and looking at the gathering rain, consoling my thoughts that at least it's going to rain.

give me a warm embrace anyone
run your fingers along my face.
and perhaps a few stories for my thoughts.

in this rain. keep me company.