I don’t write poetry, but then I wrote this piece in prose, and it just seemed so much better this way. Forgive the funky construction, I don’t really read poetry, either.
Whatever I listen to today makes me want to cry.
You were there, and then you weren’t, and usually,
I forget, and just get on.
But not today.
Today I want to scream.
I am open, laid bare, and everything is discordant, overpowering,
a hard metal band in a crowded bar.
I am standing in the middle of the stage,
between the drums and the bass,
My face is red, my throat raw.
But everyone thinks it’s just part of the show.
The louder, the better.
With every pound of the drum my skin buzzes.
I want this energy, this release,
but I want to leave the chaos here.
Take me to the symphony,
I want to sit between the violins and the cello.
And when I feel the waves move through my body,
when all I can do is yell and let the tears stream down my face
I want it to be music, too.