Wednesday, February 24, 2016
A poem by Gary G Pelow, Cold Rain
The cold rain is falling, the cold piercing the soul, I walk drenched in cold water, it is February and the snow has been replaced by falling cold water, in many ways this is worse than snow. Snow is cold but dry, at least when not melted. Cold rain in cold temperatures is very painful to me and my soul. I feel so empty and depressed by this dark grey weather, as if this weather has the ability to make my mental problems worse, and they are worse in this bleak, hellish cold of a hell frozen over. I seek to get home quickly, hoping for even colder temperatures to create snow instead of rain, this will happen soon, I prefer the snow and wind to this bleak backdrop of cold but unfrozen water. I am very low on energy in this shit weather, I am very lethargic and depressed in this shitty climate of Rochester, New York. I hate this fucking city, its weather, its people, its crime. I want to go back, back to Brockport along the canal, where I can walk in summer along its stony banks, there the weather is the same as Rochester, but without the heartless rude and cruel, violent people of this city, fuck Rochester, fuck the cold, why the fuck was I born here?