The flash of inspiration has been struck,
a highly charged bolt from a fiery pit
the smouldering skyline tops with acidic wit.
You see it in a eye-opening look.
The rain is a pulsing drumbeat pouring down,
its tearful tribute to the clouds intense
with the solar flare acting as an electric fence.
This is an evening cover over the town.
The striking imagery is now so violent,
though the other brews are damp cloths
that absorb the atmosphere like thick broths.
It makes a rumbling cacophony sound silent.
The electricity breaks waves in my nerves,
a fusebox of veins mirroring the scene
a weatherbeaten poet wouldn\'t pick clean.
A V sign is based on learning curves.
There is strobe lighting on the glass,
a surreal painting for the horror film fan
about an ultraviolet ray that doesn\'t scan.
The fizzling inferno burns in the grass.