blurred insanity

by Sophia V., 18

Most nights,
I am there
fighting the rain.
Windshield wipers 
as boxing gloves.
as a most menacing glower.

Most nights,
I am there—
while the torrential chaos
persists as the pestle 
to the aggrieved mortar 
of the steel exterior,
while the rubber tires 
slip and slide
beneath the rumbling ire of my gears.

Most nights,
I am there.
Aggravation squints,
the blackest crow 
carves its feet
in the corners of my eyes.

Yet tonight,
somehow I am here
finding solace in the storm.
In my obscured vision,
in the absolute of its blurred outlines.
The world is nothing more—
existing no further
than the two inches ahead.

Yet tonight,
somehow I am here.
Passionately consumed
in an illusion
that I am not the only thing 
the only thing 

Unknowing that it takes a deluge
to shroud my incompletion,
to deafen the pulse of my 

St. Petersburg, Florida