Of Typhoon, Music and Drowning

Aretha sings. Ms. Typhoon goes a-mighty strong. The clouds all a-clutter. Reasons all flung up in the gloomy sky. And I think aloud. I give you a piece of my weather. Internal weather.

I am so wet, soaking wet with words that I can already drown. I drown, then sink, sink, sink.

The wind is like a band of various chants, different instruments playing a universal ballad-LOVE. Yes, love. The first forecast of my own climate. That kind when a whirlwind becomes such a usual prediction. The type that makes me want to just raise the white flag and sleep. Give up. Give in.

Now, Blur buzzes in. Another kind of chill, but same feeling I get from Aretha. Beetlebum. And Ms. Typhoon raging outside.

Still, I am so wet. I keep on swimming and drowning... in a lake of wishful thinkings, vivid reveries and one truth: HIM.