A fever-dream in verse, Lightning Strikes From Satellites and Other Dreams of Armageddon traces a young artist’s descent through late-night streets, record-store obsessions, whiskey-stained memory, and the hollow glow of hotel night shifts. These poems live in the space between self-loathing and stubborn hope, between the ache of leaving and the terror of staying still.

The voice is raw and unvarnished: a typewriter clacking in a dim room, scotch sweating on a coffee table, cigarettes crushed into a cracked ashtray beside a half-finished thought. It is loneliness sharpened by humor, love scorched by regret, faith tangled with nihilism. Nashville hangs like a backdrop of neon and exhaustion; Memphis flickers as a ghost of love lost and maybe never deserved.

This collection moves like a mixtape worn thin—Elliott Smith beside Big Star, jazz spinning late, punk-rock confession, prayers whispered into liquor bottles and empty rooms. These poems refuse polish. They bleed. They sulk. They laugh at themselves. And they don’t look away from the ugly, beautiful truth of trying to stay alive in a world that never asked you to.

For readers who crave honesty where it hurts and beauty where it shouldn’t exist, this book is a companion to the restless, the heartbroken, the dreamers orbiting their own destruction—still searching for one quiet spark in the dark.