I Love The Sound it Makes When The Fingers
Slide String, Switching From Chord to Chord.
- Like a Straw Piercing Plastic -
Music is My Only Solace, My Withdrawal From
Everything, But it Neglects My Frailty.
- I Can Hear Their Souls in My Fretboard -
But There's No Sight Any More, No Interaction,
No Touch, No Love. We Are Barren.
- The Killing of Muses -
The Movement of a Thousand Fingers, Smoothing
Horse Hair Across Suspended Steel.
- Washes Right Through Me -
They Snuffed out like Candles. One by One
I left Them, and They Went in all Directions.
- I -
The First One Was an Icebreaker Session,
Right Into Reality, Seeded By Angst.
- II -
The Second Destroyed Every Perception
I Had of Love, But I Was So Young.
The Third Made Me Miserable, Masochistic
And Fuelled Entirely By My Loins.
The Fourth, Separated by Inconceivable
Distance Through My Raw Isolation.
- So Much Beauty -
But as I Stand Here, Sifting Through Nostalgic
Debris, I Can't Help But Think...
...I Lost so Much More.