The beats, beating thumping stomping rhythm into pieces Trumpets, bellowing throwing pungent notes bloating Drum kits, belching pulses pulsating hope Bodies, moving tortured tormentors mentors bending fendors Cutting melody highs, laser knives, through eardrums wet with pleasure Shrill fingers trill valves in halves cuffed Feet tap-tap, like a boxer winding his left-left, no right hook […]

note to the i’s bride
where ever she hides
if you do not read what i write
whats the point?
you will never get me
even if
you open ya eyes wide