Washed out in the downpour

 The rain is incessant
It comes to leach all thoughts and feelings
To purge any sense of self one might have
To hit the pavement and wash out the accumulated trash

To wash out your lifeless opinions that hold no value or sense
But echo sweeter than well polished soundbite on a crisp spring morning
It all flows out get pushed away in the deluge with debris and lost cares
The sense of productivity also got washed out

The rivers expand and take out the margins slowly and ever greedily
Sitting water allows the mosquitos to proliferate
They fly in and land on bare skin but when they drink they get ill
Because the blood is no longer vibrationally sound

The blood and spirit is dull and without life
Without excitement or inspiration
And so the mosquito fills up
but cannot move afterward

The waters run and collect and smother
The mosquito falls off the wall
Full of tedium flavored blood
and the clouds agglomerate and hover

Conspiring about the next downfall
Excluding the important message of the sun