Somewhere with the nuisance

It's a feeling so big,

Lightening bolts turn into strings.

String of white in midst of black.

It decapitates you.

Fills your lungs with smoke.

A sensation so griping, not even

Jesus could surpass.

A hand of gold, a glass of wine.

Some beats in the background,

Playing bout some lost love;

But do I care?

But I still try and listen, divert?

I think not.

I sit and type, click clack.

Click clack, sounds so strange.

The music turns to noise,

Reaching somewhere with this nuisance?