~ Rehearsals
By Manicmuze
The long notes wear dark sunglasses, lean against my bedroom wall holding their breath, humming death, scratching their balls with such masculinity. I improvise another person’s voice, toned and rhythmically correct. Stretch sound around the tongue, rewind then try to forget the constant beat of day, the upset steady rhythm of the music of this pain. Short staccato heartbeats pound a throbbing memory until harmony explodes. I re-arrange the voices dripping from the ceiling, then repeat the chorus of some moralizing story with hopeless, desperate strangers. This vessel, full of the glory of feeling, sits dead center, hands-clenched around the throat of sorrowful songs, wearing a trench coat and ear muffs, choking the shit out of a theory called —healing.this one is a bit on the unusual side... lol Written December 11th, 2001 © on Oct 15 2002 08:25 AM PST, Wendy Hammond 0 • 18 • 10
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"The long notes..."