When the music found me.

My veins vibrate like piano chords

Soaking, dragging , my sandy strings of sediment into oceans of  sentiment.

Flooding every form of creation, embellishing senses like melodic sentences

See sounds they are aesthetic

it makes up my chromosomes it's genetic

im close to synthetic

sounds surround me they are broken down, synthetic

Music found me

Dropped in a world beyond your wildest dreams

wilder than the most fantastic fantasies your brain can  conceive

while you daydream through AP Psychology

I paint melodious strokes and revoluntionary qoutes through brass plated notes on blank minded canvases

a stroke here, and a strok there

but it is important to leave space

I drag my feet because it reminds me of paint brushes on snares

Car horns harmonize dissonant chords, engines rattles, needles like

beads on swinging symbols

I dont hear the train the same way you do.

Helicopters chop up rhythems  

i count my days on my back

I am my own soundtrack

A movement in a lifelong, sweet, first forever, falling gracefully

and floating tastefully, then strecthing slowly through cresendos

building colossal monuments of eastasy

Don't ask me why i can't stop singing to myself

Don't ask me why my fingers never stop moving

Don't ask me why sometimes i can hear you but can't listen

My world is made of bouncing rhytems and traveling pitches

sounds prevade sense relentless in tensenes essence left defenceless since the emergence if its it's presence

Bar Mitzvahs like artist group intruments my Rabbi is Miles Dvais

he asked me for my repentance in a silent way so that handcuffs remain past tense 

Reckless confession of adolescnce infinitely sentenced to be incarcerated by ledger lines

Back of the blue and white bus, weed smoking kids but of course corpses that've never breathed art before will forver reek of remorse

For pledging allegiance to ignorance and pricey pristine politicians demands of indiffernece.

How many presidents were musicians? 

People arn't blind when it comes to politics they just dont listen

Listen then you can see tapestries if righteous vixens and revolutionary blacksmiths banging brass bats on brushed blue and purple ignorance.

I once was lost but now im found was blind and now i see music found me.