Less than a second.

This composition
was brought to you

 
by an electric storm-
by a simple wave
of frequent and infrequent
of sound, and of silence
of nothing
and everything.

Voltage puts filters over vision;
maybe trusting the lens
isn’t best
for tonight.

Instead of stumbling,
I shoot hopeful eyes
to the Lady of sorrow
in her pixilated self-portrait,
of cyan
magenta
and yellow,

but nothing in between.

sometimes
the moral of a story
will only ever amount
to a girl
asking for directions
at a computer screen.

Memorized
by the beat of another drum,
they see
eyes nearly exploding,
looking too closely at movements
of all the fascinating creatures
crawling around
the street.

words are but names
that external forces
give to all the spinning colors
felt in the tips of your fingers
as one presses on keys and fret boards-

I wished upon a star
that the mute wires would break
to listen to every voice
sing louder than ever-

without being paid
or stolen from.

and that lightning?

well,

it’s less than a second.