Drawn In Harmony

The phrase "Music to my ears" has been injected toward the wrong part of my body, and most unpleasantly personified. There is a record player that I let skip and scratch on purpose, hearing colorful sound of life back when truth kept us both inside the lines. I thought order was helping me draw closer to you, while you began on the next page without me. The needle digs it's way into my ape-shaped forearm. I'm directed by the guitar string shaped veins that only play notes in the keys of D# E# A# F# and the sharp sounds pierce my perception to the point I can hardly hear your voice anymore. At times, listening to the same old sad song on repeat makes me think that I am just an old soul getting repeatedly tossed around in God's big barrel of human paradox. "Lord what was I made for? Surely it wasn't to repeat the mistakes of my forefathers, because I'm certain I am the only one you molded with forearms so large, that the record got lost and forgot how to spin in circles. Music is all about art, and art all about perception. Perception has nothing to do with your eyesight, and you use your ears to envision the painting on a blank canvas before picking anything else up but sound waves. I drive myself crazy sometimes when I think that my inspiration is speeding away from me in the opposite lane, but I didn't even ask for directions. Mostly because I'm a man, a stubborn one at that, and I always think I know where I'm going. But this time, I swear I had gotten the map right. So I transformed my open hands into tight fists to make music burst out of my arms, and the needle went faster and faster until it broke off, and the high pitched vibration disintegrated the steel into my own blood. I blame myself for letting this be the first time to let myself draw some air into my body. A surgery of scalpels cutting into my physical, and an orchestral symphony of sutures, threading my life back together again. My blue blood turns crimson as it kisses the air. Why do we associate the color red with life and vibrancy, when it clearly shows that we are letting our own blood run down our arms? Why do so many women where red lipstick; the kind that sticks to your collar, screaming to your wife that you clearly sinned? Why do we see sin so clearly; transparent enough for others to correct us before we really we even grasp the desire to fix ourselves? AND WHY IN THE WORLD IS THIS MUSIC PLAYING SO LOUDLY NOW; when my needle broke off into my body a long time ago, and I can hardly hear you anymore. Good thing my life's song still isn't completely written yet. Let's add a more positive climax to this. One drawn in harmony.