sweat or rain

I don't know if it is sweat or rainthat makes me so moist on days when even downpour can'trelieve the heaviness the air, my lifeis built around such conflusions, theinability to distinquish betweenthose elements that define ourexistance, the good and bad, rightor wrong, the beauty from the ugly,and at times, I do not even knowjust how I feel, the mingling ofemotions that streer me this way andthat, as if the compas that I haveinside is drawn not just to thenorth pole but also to distraction,I am like a child in theproverbial candy shop, myfingers already sticky fromfrom all the possible choices, leavingmy finger print on the glassbefore this treat or that, needingnot just to see or touch but alsoto taste each before my mindcan be made up and possiblynot even then, I am always the child inside, staring out fromthe candy shop, suffering thetorments of weather I cannotcontrol, and worse, don't want to.