Like Waterdrops that Sludge

Like waterdrops that sludge off rooftops, the collection of dust that rolls within me in that downwards perspire. My optic drive was never quick enough to properly acquiesce my fall.  Tumble, I spiral in that downward trickle that is meant to ameliorate poverty.  Born as the gunslinging actor left his white cap on that oval desk; raised in the ashes of the domestic wars he waged.  I learned to walk as the globalized stage performed Friedman’s great symphony.  Those with deep pockets applauded the theatrics and said it was the most irresistible play; he outdid the original Milton.  Paradise lost as the Children of Adam were out staged too, for Satan found that his voice allured the crowd.  Irresistibly incongruous, insatiably irresistible, freedom has a value weighed in gold.

Downwards into that school system that melted my innocence in my descent.  Melted away that frigid core that once was connected with the clouds above, the essentials dreaded with the existential.  Already other raindrops had made collisions above, the fall still in the making.  The weatherman said I would arrive soon…forty percent chance of rain, scattered with heavy winds.  I was soiled even then as my fall stretched across the years of my adolescence, youth enthralled to the descent.

Gravity pulling, my entire bubble collapses into droplets, barely recognizable to the thing that fell from above.  The sun breaches cirri arms, and newly I am filled with the ambitions of fire rather than water.  My bubble eviscerates and boils and breaks, the conditions of wet are portended by asphalt and cement.  Splat downward into that eventual crash, where all who came before are the things of the past.  Forgotten and waylaid upon the gritty and unforgiving earth, many will scoff and drag me through dirt. Others will hurt the sentiments that bubble from my pores.  My droplet depleted and dried to a crust.  Evaporate me lord, tis the process I trust.