Its raining

Its raining
and I’m in solitude.
Solitude of the mind,
My thoughts criss cross with no one to reflect off of.
My disillusions of reality go unchecked.
With no one to confirm or deny them.

Its raining
and I’m in solitude.
Solitude of the senses, as the cold chill bludgeness my senses now dull to existence itself, now numb to being.
The textures of life fade away.

The weather now a reflection of my state of being.
Constant, present and just there.
The clouds blanket the city, the rains fall like unforgiven angels as I watch from my window:

Its raining
and I’m in solitude.
Solitude of definition.