Inner-hall Concerto

I put a disk inside of my chest
so it plays music for the paralysed parts
its genuine sound feels sacrally innocent
I like to do it when I pause
being the only one who hears it –
the grand concerto for a single listener
solemnly untied
flooded with wind instrumentation
when deep stillness is all you manage to see in me

I was unsure of what I feel when we met
cautiously moving, touching your shiftiness
that I still do
people caught in between themselves
construct my unwritten ambiguity
like they'd play with furry dices
their reachless binds in me
to become even more impassable

and clownish trumpets are playing around
with me
right now
as I pause

fotka