The Music Maker

watching close friends succumb to drugs and addiction

He stoops in his corner


tucked between bead board and machine,


hunched, huddled over turntables.


He whispers dissonance into the atmosphere


A lit cigarette, perilously perched


between his lips, so loosely,


I worry I will have to watch it

fall, 
sparking fire rains down


onto his vinyl 

will it burn the record

 
beyond repair?
                                

It doesn’t.

He drags deeply, 

changing tempo,


reality stretching out, drawling with the beat,


like driving out from under the bridge


into a night full of silence and

deftly falling snow.


The Music Maker’s hair sticks up

straggled tufts,


like he stuck his finger into a socket -

 
 Electrified.


I ask him, and he absently fingers the mop, 
shrugs;

 he slept outside last night. He thinks.


His melody rambles and rolls onward


slow. sweet. reminiscent; a lone crow riding the wind


His shoes are half a size too big, his legs


belong to a newborn fawn.  

Riddled with
bites and scars, 

working against 
gravity.


unsteady in their duty of holding 

The Music Maker at his post.


Those heavy-lidded eyes, vacant " tumble


into hazel nothingness because eyes are


so. much. prettier without pupils.


scabs - scratches adorn his cheeks; War Paint


the rivers trailing the insides of his arms

-
a map of where he has been but, 


it will lead you nowhere new;


Mark the topography of his broken soul.


Shiver - brace myself against the wind threatening


to sweep us all away;


The Music. The Maker. and me,


the candle stick vigil fore-saker.


I want to call out to him, a warning,


(don’t go) 

but my thick cotton tongue lolls useless, 


Death Valley behind my lips, and I say

nothing.


The Music Maker’s chin rolls down, 

touches his chest while the last 

notes of his song dwindle to hang


suspended in resonance where no one pays attention to it.

Reviews

[Chris]

yeah, you been there...or at least you have the 'tude right.

[Sami Khalil]

"
Mark the topography of his broken soul.


Shiver - brace myself against the wind threatening


to sweep us all away; 
The Music. The Maker. and me,
"

A splendid read and write...:).............................

[Susannah Rae]

thank you so much. means a lot that my little words can strike a happy chord within others.

[Sami Khalil]

Yep. You are welcome...:)....................