I slept with the
stereo,
dreamt the lyrics,
fat on the adjectives, loose
on the rhymes,
each bridge carrying me
to the next heart palpitation.
Lips hover, playing the track
over and over,
dissecting the harmony.
Guitar
picks pierced
and strung around my neck,
daring them to slip
into this hollow body.
Such
rough distortion
distorts my view. Vibrations
blur the lines of business.
I need a dam
to make the blood stop
pouring into my knees
every time I think of teeth
in my lip, fingers
on my frets, a pulse
throbbing against mine,
becoming electricity
from heart,
to core, to crotch.
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