Much Like a Storm

As I continue on in convenient fashion, trying to make my way without knowing the direction, I shift through the clouds and find droplets upon my cheeks. Convenient in the truth of the one-stop-shopping utopia, quick grabs and snacks and drinks and bad habits plopped on the counters. Something for the headache that doesn't seem to renege, something for the idle hands that wander aimlessly without. An attempt to quench a thirst that no longer can quench, an attempt to fill the empty spaces that gape holes through and through. Much a like a storm I'm caught off guard, by dark and threatening clouds that cry tears of doubt. Wash over me as I wade through the dark, unseeing, directionless without. Needless am I, I think to myself, for the convenience of late and purpose throughout. Unhappy in meaning, unhappy without, unhappy in standing, I am throughout. Wishing for elsewhere, knowing all that I doubt, would help much at all and yet I do it for now. Much like a storm that passes me now, I know that things change, convenient and how.