Each time
I force this
Shit
Is another
Day that’s
Wearing

On words
Which have
No meaning
Outside
What spark
Has passed

Until
These feelings
Rear
Such phrases
Short
And scary

Like passing
Bolts
Of thunder
Which strike
At ground
This hard

To unleash
Their spoken
Wrath
With stories
Told
From caring

Too much
As God
Would put it
For memories
Old
Yet raw

Still nagging
In this
Rain
Which pours
On open
Spaces

Where fields
Inside
My being
Are drenched
When anger
Flows

But waits
For coming
Rays
Through release
Of clouded
Tensions

Spoken
As my
Lightning
Is witnessed
Near that
Sun

Beyond
What danger
Cracks
Within dark
And scattered
Systems

Plaguing
Minds left
Empty
Across heavens
Clear
And real

Beneath chance
Or fated
Storms
So dark
I cannot
Witness

How skies
Are open
Daily
Over holes
I always
Chase

Through fog
That lingers
Low
Between cracks
That have me
Begging

Amid fears
Like distant
Doldrums
For my writing
Come
And gone.

– J. Pigno