• Max Mundan

Another Rainy Night


The raindrops pounding down

on the old cement ceiling

are keeping perfect time

with my incessant pacing

Back and forth

Back and forth

Wearing visible grooves

into the hard wood floor

while metallic pings

from the water dripping

into shallow steel buckets

haphazardly placed around the apartment

provide lyrical counterpoint and

occasionally, comic relief

to the melodramatic Sturm und Drang

of my unbreakable unease

And the rain keeps drumming

Drumming

Drumming

Drumming inside my skull

as if it were my conscience

"Is she going to live?"

it asks me

"Is she going to die?"

as the dark of this place

is almost a thing alive

moving in my peripheral vision

Taking shape

Form

I can see it's disastrous wings

beginning to unfold

into a condemnation

of me

of what I've become

of all that I am

"Is she going to live?"

"Is she going to die?"

The rain is pounding

Pounding

Pounding

The drumming

Drumming

Drumming

The buckets pinging

and as the music builds

to a loathsome crescendo

this travesty

masquerading as my inner voice

offers me a challenge

"If she lives,

will you have the strength

to reenact this all again,

tomorrow night?

“And the night after that.”

“And the night after that.”

“And the night after that.”

“And the night after that.”

“And the night after that.”

“And the night after that.”

“And the night after that.”

“And the night after that.”

“And the night after that.”

“And the night after t

“And the night

“And the...

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