The rain that doesn't land.

The body of a translucent figure,
her scent,
her figure on the wall.
Where...
bricks...lay,
the wall was made of silver brick.
Slivers of the mind,
"Mind if I sit down with you?"
seep into your mind,
down with you under the stars,
the sun star blazing,
now out blazing,
with teeth gritting,
spit the ribbons out,
outside spitting.
The house is splitting,
the wood splitting in two,
the bamboo cut to,
downward angle,
upward angel...
Body occupied,
by ten angled points,
ten men sitting beyond the fire.
Fire brought to man,
Man now shoots fire.
Sitting in the beyond now.
Sipping on...sipping on...
the nectar of a rose.
Blended rose, blended into the foliage,
our hearts now stomping
in orange dead leafs.
...Death leaves...
now not orange but deep red,
now not red but steeping in tea.
Blood dripping in the wine,
the salty wine now drinkable...
no one is awake, no one is around,
But her.Little brain seizure,
NOW
influenced by the white lion,
lion that pounces on the weakest,
allergic to the scent of peace.
Piece of the heart, the spiked heart...
still perched in the branches,
to high.
Hung high, let go....
stars dangle.
The sun dangles until the rope is burnt,
now the angels did not go to the stars.
Piece of mind fell into the sky,
upside down.
Now it rains, yet something burns the rain...
the rain seems to fall,
but does not land.