When the lightning fires from your fingertips

and the darkness of your soul

is known

When you eat abstract ideas

and digest them with strange stories

filling your body with foreign bodies

that escape your pores

like men, climbing out of manholes

When the streets are drowning in rain

and the traffic is insane

and people follow red and green lights

and street signs

but they can’t find their way

When nothing is real

because nobody believes in fantasy

Find a quiet place

and type.