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.