Pressure

Pressure is rising.
You can feel it in your head, the air is so thick it hurts.
The clouds above drape the entire sky in dark, heavy silence.
Your mind goes someplace else, escaping it's throbbing enclosure.
Decisions aren't thought, actions aren't made, nothing is done.
The blanket overhead separates us all.
nothing out of mouths is right,
nothing seen from eyes is trusted,
everything heard in ears ring,
all that is smelt is rain.


Further away, you see the drapes falling,
you see the dark leaking, the weight stretching through.
It's like the blanket is blending downwards,
reaching to touch ground.
The smell is overwhelming, the distant rain is sweet.
Then a jolt of lightening threads it's way down,
lighting the canvas of deep grays.
A smash of thunder tears the barriers
that were maintaining the pressure, and holding the rain.
Rain rushes down, covering everything with a glistening tint.
The pressure is lifted, and the rain is healing; comforting.
The worst has past; the storm is here.