Sound
Acoustic and raw,
it doesn’t need additives;
Creeping up on you
so very unexpected,
the haunt in haunted rhythm;
Oh ravenous fiend
I can describe you as sound,
Acid on the drums;
Bouncers sit screening the door
not for I.Ds but hunger;
Inky bass line itch,
no words need to be written;
A Demon’s disco,
that sanctimonious scratch
electricity stutters.
Copyright © Melani Udaeta | Year Posted 2024
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