Angels storm the drain.

Circling my bath-tub slowly,

treading lightly upon a much forgotten



Angels storm the drain.

And it feels like thunder and

it feels like rain.


Come crashing into waves,

encroaching droplets, pellets of hail,

lightening and thundering,

as Angels storm the drain.


My dog hides in plain sight,

upon our bed,

her entire 85 lbs is shaking

all over again,


but Angels storm the drain.

It’s like a song, or

simply a bizarre refrain,

an Army of Angels storming

the drain, yet treading very lightly

as only Angels are accustomed too.cell 69 048

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