In Beethoven's Grasp

She falls deeper and deeper into a black hole as it pulls her nearer . A hole of nothingness. She despises the ruins that befall her as she nears the end of another obscure tune.

She sat at her table in the tremble of a sweet symphony. Beethoven effused her entire brain, killing each neuron and murdering each trace of scandalous pain that pervaded her being. 

She was heartbroken. Not by a lover nor by a saint but rather by her own miserable self. Her heart sank in despair as she grasped at the last edges of sanity. 

so shapely sanity was.

So inevitable to be innate to a human yet not so much to her.    

Her tomorrow was a day she scarcely looked towards.

Her today wrapped in the prettiest hues of red and black. Drenched in scars and blades. 

What more remained? 

She couldn't translate reality into routine as much as her hands translated her depths to words. 

She heard them again. Banging at the doors. 

NO. Not anymore.

Her reality was complex yet imbecilic. Her face contorted to imagine that perfect scenario. In the midst of Beethoven, she saw colors. 

Blue. Yellow. Green. Pink. A Red but not the kind she was acquainted with.

She felt herself swaying. 

The music, like rain on a sunny day, like a flower in a desert.

Her hand picked up the invisible violin as she danced along with it. Strummed the sixteenth chord and found herself flying. 

'Don't let it subside' she thought, as she bent all the laws of gravity.

There it was, the tun tun tun tun, Beethoven had made it all resplendent 

She closed her eyes. 

The subtle sounds pulling her back, heartbeat by heartbeat. 

And yet she quiescently slipped through the melody's forgiving arms. 

She slipped. she slipped. she slipped.

And incontrovertibly, with her impudent and capricious soul...she slept.