Alive

Resonance that seeps into my soft red skin,

like fallen ice on thin white sheets-

fingers that saunter on my spine

like blind handprints on braille.

My flooded red eyes

they blink and suddenly

the frosted peak of my nose is met with cold,

dead rain.

It is melodic, rhythmic

clamorous noise that eats away at my stomach.

Synthesizers, drum kits, an orchestra

that orchestrates a movement

upon the silk of their strings

and the marrow in the joints of my fingers.

Music inundates my heart

it encompasses the characterizations

of my artistic vision.

Without it

I guess my body wouldn't seem to be so

alive.