Music Class

I was given four senses. I’m not blind, I’m not deaf, I enjoy salt and I take pride in smelling food. I especially like music though, its rhythm, the pattern it follows, the melody that ensues.

I met him at the music class. Blue eyes, one tooth peering out of his lip. That little imperfection in the otherwise godly sculpture of a man. He was the kind of person I wanted. The kind of person I like to play with and listen.

I didn’t know impaling someone could draw that much noise from a throat. It seemed very unnatural, but somewhat like a metronome. A subtle periodic variation to it as the air passed through the throat and the puncture wound and collided in between.

zrrrrrk…zrrrrrk…zrrrrrk the steel beam screeched as I dragged it down the floor. zrrrk…zrrrk…za la la laa la lala. Remember visualizations in those old music players? Those that changed to the sound of music? His eyes were the same. Blue circles. Zrrrk…right…zrrrk…left…zrrrk…up…zrrrk…shake…zrikk…hide…zrrrk…dilate. Everyone’s were. Seven simple notes that make the entire music you’ve ever heard;

Do: A plier. a lethal plier. 

Re: A drop of golden burn.  //3000-degree hot lava in his mouth

Mi: Eeeeehhh. A name, you scream yourself

Fa: A long-long way nowhere to run.

So: A needle pulling through his ribs

La: A gnash to follow so

Ti: I drink with fat and legs

That brings us back to do o. .o. .o. Do. Do it again. A musician’s note must be perfect. When you play an instrument so frail, practice. Practice till you have mastered each chord and can play it on every ligament of your equipment. Know the type of diaphragm that makes a good drum. And remember to blow into the trachea before bag-piping the lungs.

Do Re Mi Fa So La Ti…Do Re Mi Fa So La Ti…Re Mi Fa So La Ti…Re Mi Fa So Ti…Re Mi Fa Ti…Re Mi Ti…Re. Re. Re. Re. Re. Ree…

Huh. I broke another one. Must be careful. The shelf is getting heavy. I should get rid of the arms.




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