Earphones can conjunct like wrong

planets--isolating a soulless listener.

Forced to hear dissonance, noise plugs

that give what they get.

Awkwardly excreting too much

information, owned by goodliness.

The whole bus reacts as if something

is passing through.

Music's ****** paralysis, at harmonious

odds--prohibited flight.

The stank roots one puts down when

caught, the sorriest excuse for being.

Music doesn't play to everyone, just

because they press play.

It knows whose listening.