Terrifier in Rain

I lean my head against the cool glass of the window and listen to the storm attempt to tear the city apart. I spent the night dreaming of hurricanes. I felt the weight of the gray skies pushing down on my head like an invisible hand; lightening tapping at my mind and flashing bright lights to illuminate the inside of my skull. I am drowning in the weight of my own convictions as the rivers and oceans rise to meet the land in a torrential kiss.

These rivers of blood flow past me as I stand at the endless shore letting the wind catch my throat as a I swallow hard. I have stood on this hill for a thousand years and watched the bodies of the innocent float by. I drop flowers of blue and gold into the thick waters and watch them swirl into the depths of the unblinking eyes of drowned souls. Their faces bloated and distended with eye-sockets bulging under the weight of un-shed tears swallowed up by all this water.

The rain catches in my hair as I venture into the wind; the streets are slick with it and the masses huddle for warmth in their long woolen jackets clutching their collars to their cheeks to fend off the stinging driving rain. I turn my face up to it; let the rain pelt my skin until it is a chilly pink.

If I close my eyes I can feel the blood of the sky run down my flesh and soak behind my eyelids. It clouds my vision until I can see the true nature of the masses flowing around me; this river of flesh and noise. I see their glowing eyes and unbridled hunger as they dart out of the rain. This rain is cleansing and they want to keep the filth upon their skin. They run for cover and inch their feet away from the rising sea lapping at their ankles. They turn their faces from each other in this dim light and break out into flat runs as the thunder crashes down behind them.

I am a harbinger in the rain; I see all futures at once and can taste the past dripping on my tongue. The waters carry truth and vision and human misery to the surface of this ocean. Ships wreck themselves upon the rocky atolls of my distant body. My mind heaves hurricane winds at the mass to bring down their long rusted batteries, to open their eyes and let the blood seep in, to cleanse the skin long dirty and crack the hearts of their long dead gods.

Do not turn away from this now. The world is heaving and the skies are opening to let rays of filtered iridescent light through. The storm is come and gone; and you should be clean now. You should see as I do and turn back from these rivers of blood to the marching dawn of new life. Take my hand and part from this mass; we have a world to change.