Ideas grow like weeds
Cicadas chirping loudly
Radio spies and cerulean skies

Makes rain shout
But doesn’t calm voices down

Too many tubes of paint
Smearing across the creases
Into a new hue of brown

White clouds begin to deepen
The beast underneath the skin itches
Scratching brings relief
Only for a few seconds

Lights on and off
Can’t decide if tiredness
Dawns because of life
Or of sleep

Energy of a battery
Juiced up for an era
Stillness an enemy
Thoughts a plethora

Costly daily rituals
Ended with a wild escape

Luminous thunderstorms
Don’t have sadness inside
Learn from their naivete
Take their advice