the music and the mettle to blur the lines between me and either path of
wrong or right… the stage fright, as a wall and a character the likes
of which are facing down like opposition from a distance of the missed
chance, but the timing was off for me I say… a polite sound check would
have been okay, but much like the music played, there was haste to make
the stage… the off-kilter tirade after the other acts had displayed
their talents and wares, and made their ways to the stairs with time to
spare, while the rest of us sat by in lonely chairs chattering on about
the days’ adventure where… the sounds of the friend and i were danceable
digital surges matched with a crashing metal thrashing guitar work, the
beats were built to dance by as the few on our team did, but i felt in
offense for the lack of preparation on my part… this, however, does not
always deter the creative mind from its predestination to weave, and
wander lust and all those other unstable traits of fate… born into a
cruel state of confusion, at first an intrusion into the world of the
parents, those things that slept together then… where did all these
unusual things come from?… in my head, there are places that no finger
can touch, but every warped jingle seems to find just so appealing
somehow… sadly, the hiatus from creative action is never taken on
vacation, and always bends the will to the way it works… some casual
menacing man that describes himself with such a candid valor, but
mysteriously attempts to hide his brain from the depraved, with their
lunatic swastika fringe embedded to spin… to declare the conservative
win, developing like a flower in the economy of sin, and meeting the
shoes of the wandering musician…
