practice study design

seven seven seven on a sunday night and outside the rain falls in sheets, the sky hangs in sagging grey bellows, heaving through the air like ships on some unnamed ocean where the crews don't venture out on deck for fear of falling to the ground below.
closed off by the curtain of mist and teardrops that seal the sidewalks like prisons of our own design, trapped in four walls with an exit in every one that always stays shut, too unmotivated to crack them open and breathe in the world that isn't a sunny sky.
so sit and stare, sit and strain to think of some other place that has no walls and no doors but the sky still hangs, fat bags hanging up ready to attack in the most harmless way.
fearless sitting in four walls ignoring the world inches away, separated by eyes that never shut unless we cover them to escape the glare form their constant gaze.
water in my eye from another lost summer day, faithful still to the hope that someday it won't fade away, it won't disappear into the haze of overhanging grey that descends down, down, down to drag me through some when and some where that i don't want to go.
until some voiceless thought goes through your head and tells you, i could drown my self in bottles and swallow all the little pills, i don't need to know the real you because only your picture matters most.
and the same wet sky that sent you into a daze, into a state of disarray, pulls you back out with its gentle caress on the window that you had looked through with disgust, calling out in a quiet song like dewdrops on a fire, telling you that some day some when some where that summer day will come falling back to you.

practice study design