Demanding music
is my fuel.
Right now.
Look at the orange
bag, the dirty beard,
the cigarette disintegrating
the human,
the white shirt
with loud
wrinkles, blocked by the angry
truck. Listen
to that
beat.
Drive me to the end
of a scummy
day. Be mean, but hide me
from the mean, hide
me in the closets
of office death.
Crunch me.
Hammer me with that strange
beat,
“Back with another one of those
block rocking
beats.” Steal me
from my insanity and dump
me in the gutters
of leftover humanity swimming
for the meat,
for the currency.
Spear me
with the orange cones.
Tear out
my heart and liver.
Blow my brain into the guts
of the amplifier, seal me
for another era.
Demanding music
is saving me
again.

.