Collections of pressure
Holding back, just so above my head.
Randomness groups itself
in pigeons, through clouds, about bacteria.
All holding back, just so below my head.
I implore you: explode onto me
I need the rain-- clean, soggy peace
I need infectious deluge.
I need movement
even if it is bereft of purpose.
I love the last two lines, the last sentence. But that's just because that speaks to me. I need movement some days even when there is no purpose to it. I honestly don't understand the rest of it. Give me a few days to think about it. I think it may have to do with me not understanding how the title relates at all.
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