radio music is a memory recalled all too clearly. resting in an electric cage we take to the cemetery, a friend’s house, the museum. //

guitar wails, sighs, screams, whispers.
flick of the wrist, exhale of the mind. //

i have a hum i keep to myself
the acoustics of a hollow heart
and a roar for both us heartbreakers. //

anthems for our country and for a shared self-loathing, performer and listener. //

songs for the street and songs for the stage. wells in our throats. they’ll tell you the water of the earth is not the water for drinking. //

why are some sounds just

sad

//