We Are The Music Makers

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Have a shower. Strip off them worn clothes, and feel the water that eases aching bones. Stand there in silence, cleansed of sin and work. Wash that beard. Run those fingers through greasy hair. Grab those balls, and say sorry to all the unborn children that never had a chance. It’s still summer, but it feels like autumn. There’s a chill in the air that excites me. Kept busy, my mind is saved from wandering into darkness. No morbid self-attention. Instead, a prolific young man, busy with creation. Nothing of any meaning blossoms in absence. Only pain and disgust lurk there, and that’s just not good enough. Dry yourself off, brush those teeth. Sit on the toilet, and smoke a cigarette. Look through the open window, and admire the green trees and grey skies. Days go quickly. Thoughts scatter. Faces blur, but the bodies remain. All those bodies, just waiting to be explored. Secrets. Desire. Those key ingredients for making a man keep his mind. Or maybe it’s the opposite. Fuck knows. Untethered, ideas float from here to there. Hands massive and creeping with excitement. Sounds of familiar sounds wash over me. Leaning back, the rain hits the ground and summons strange smells. Tiny white lies, and the snuffed out kings of nowhere. All hail sepulchers. All worship birth. Paintings of women. Drawings of wombs. Words that revolve around dance. Sparks of something not known. Become undone. Undress and caress. Hands around curves. A landscape of beauty while always making sure to tweak the nipple. Let her know that she’s the one that you crave. She’s more than just a woman. More than just lust. There’s something in her eyes; it pierces every time. Underneath, we connect through impulse and belief. The wind blows heavy. Objects hold no sway, not least today. Too many useless people. Too much junk that gets in the way. Listen to Aphex Twin. Drink beer. Slip outside of unwanted confines. Pucker up, and move in time to the beat of falling bombs. Ocean side and shiny. Sepia like her smile. Owls and animals, circling her sacred feet. Lucid dreams, and hushed instinct. Fog on the horizon, and buildings falling from the heat of her gaze. Let’s be honest, and call out the names of the ones we love. Let’s show some courage, and stand inside our hearts. Within, there’s nothing out of place. It’s always warm, and truth just happens. Natural, just like the trees. The fifth element, if you will. And I will, and so do you, whether you know it or not. You, carved into a moment of time. A piece of history that will never be forgotten; slices of being that stitch us back together as the clock strikes 03:15 am.

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