I run toward a field of chiselled faces
one two one two one
is the date
the date to runaway
sometimes it is necessary
when the world crumbles
beneath to board that train
despite only two hours sleep
and paining heart
feeling weak
a woman once told me
that in hospitals
there are whole wards
filled with people who
cannot express their feelings
I can express my feelings
weep and I do and I did
in front of you in that
Vietnamese cafe
to explain at
the end and
when they were not handled
like you would a small dove
when enough tears had soaked
through the skin of my cheeks
into the fabric of my glove when
I cannot sleep and you lay quiet
floating down a pious canal I
boarded that train
to arrive at a better day
and a field of chiselled faces
who place a hand on my shoulder
and ask why, what is the reason
for all of this rain?