Storm Clouds

There's a storm brewing
Somewhere between the pavement
And my feet as I drag them.
The friction burns
Wears down and
Strips away everything
To the bones
Marrow and through.

There's nothing left
In this sea of inadequacy
And I am but a pale
Lie of a man
A form without function
Collared refuse to be
Shovelled over shoulder
With all the white trash.

I am the empty bottle
That houses lightning.
I am nothing of substance
But violence
That disperses only
Through the simplest of routes
To rest in the ground.

Let the thunder come after
Echo through the skies
Knocking the birds from their heaven
Let it flatten every forest
Knock you from your feet,
Shatter every window
Deafen every ear.

Leaving only silence in its wake
And a ringing that cuts
Like razors caught deep
In your meat.