destruction is a steady rhythm

only music is the way
to give structure to the insane.
as if a conductor
is making sense
of the misfires of pain
that reside in my broken
that has long split apart.
a beat and a note
and the words sung or spoke
in a neat little bar
along with the rhythm
of a broken heart.
without the sounds
there’s no order to
the broken howls
that make their rounds
which force me to scream
silence is my sentence
and my torture
and my repentance.
and the basis of my madness.
the structure to my sadness.
i miss it and now
for all the why’s and all the how’s
my connection to reality
is spiraling down.


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