some nights
my sorrow summons
the storms to
drown this world
of insipid miseries
my chest aches
as the lightning
darts across the
periwinkle clouds
and i cannot tell
if it is real or
a manifestation of
inclemental agony

the rains pummel
a dessicant of
deceitful soulsquander
as i trace the drops
in erractic descent
racing down the glass
the accumulated grime
from months of arid
apathy from the sky
and i have become
a primal spirit awash
in instinctual rage
made of the same
high voltage coursing
through my hollow skull
an electrical demon
with hazel dementias
in thunderous decline

my sorrows waft
incorporeal phantasms
summoning the storms
a whirling tempest
laying waste to all
the cardboard skylines
a forebearance of
supple insanities in a
foreclosure of hope
the skies aflame with
tangible absurdities
to drown the dreamers
in vacant smiles of
hidden miasmas to
swallow the pervasive
emptiness of dilligence
in stark dogmatic disbelief