7/5/18
the thing about lightning strikes is that you can’t see them if you’re not just waiting around looking at the sky
you can’t look at a phone, write a poem, or imagine a gigantic black hound with glowing green eyes charging out of the underbrush and leaping upon you, tearing your flesh apart and crumbling your bones in its maw
if you do, you’ll miss the lightning strike and instead see flashes of power in your peripheral vision
then you’ll wonder where you went so wrong that you can’t even fantasize about the day that you die and who will come to your funeral without missing the sheer raw beauty of a thunderstorm
nature finds a way into your brain, whether it’s an illness of thought or a wriggling green parasite