Molten Poetry

Let it burn.

How can I sing
when my message
is out of key?

I pick the notes,
they have become
rote, but the tune
never comes.

It’s never freed.

A tale, laid upon
the scales, chords,
notes, and wails
never fail to mislead
among the layers
of meaning.

Strange cacophony,
a discordant blasphemy
of 5ths, 7ths, and notes
that were never known
to me.

But you
gave me the key
to finally unlock
their meaning.

Now, I howl and bleed
as my fingers feed
their flesh into
the echo-chamber

beneath the strings.


©️ 2018.

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