u/ink-and-inferno

You board up your windows while I board the midnight train.
The hammer strikes before the lightning flash—
a rhythmic, hollow thud against the coming black.
Turns out the glass was really cellophane.

Paper walls and deadbolts made of rust—
a feeble dwelling I once called home—
illusions of structure I thought I could trust,
though clarity comes before the storm.

Moonlit tracks lead anywhere but here–
silver beacons to clearer skies.
Howling your name in time with the wind–
your memory fades, but it never dies.

The engine is hungry, the valley is wide,
and I am a ghost the rain cannot follow.
I'm leaving the wreckage and washing my pride–
let the storms sow the seeds of tomorrow.

Shit, here come the stigmata.

Fluorescent bulbs
drive icepicks
through my skull,
skewering
these vacant olive eyes.
The walls close in
until the brightness dulls
and phospholuminescence
slowly dies.

Martini glass,
now shattered,
vodka streams
and vision blurs.
In anesthetic dreams,
the revolution still endures.

Anguished spirits
strategize
in shadowy reprieve,
hallucinating vengeance
through sublime insurgency.

No one ever saw it coming—
laser beams from sunken eyes.
You can blind the visionary,
but the vision never dies.