The rain has come with blackness

Pale, skinny, bare feet inside of wet shoes,
My blackness is enveloped by the liquid blackness of the night
And I fly like a specter towards my warm, butter coloured room,
The gutters rebel against waste management, water treatment and civic planning
By expelling when they should be ingesting,
A madness of yellow leaves and chestnut spinepods chokes the rapids,
Swirls the potholes,
And adheres to my expensive wet shoes that are being ruined,
The rain has come with blackness
Sure as spilled India Ink spreading through a rented carpet.