Liquid Spite

Driving in the pounding rain
Windshield Wipers speedy, repetitive, and sick
Clearing my window of the cloud's icy tears
Cold stares
That bang at my forehead with sporatic thuds

With Wipers my vision is enhanced
And my ill wetness disappears
For a moment
Or two, then back again it comes
Harder still
Rinse, repeat

I ponder, while driving my
Barely affordable vehicle
If Windshield feels like I do
If he despises the rain and it's self-hate
The way it hits itself repeatedly on his forehead
Kamikaze
Or Cloud's whining, excessive tear ducts
Which flow with a disappointed blue power
Hard against the hurt glass
Who protects me from the ouside world

Though I am not protected, shielded, or armored
For the strain the rain puts on my brain
Is so intense, it frightens me and I cower
Petrified
From it's uncontrollable emotions, urges, and needs