Greasy
fingers,
mashing the
piano keys,
playing some
song I’m
sure I’ve
heard but can’t
name.
Slippery
fingers ,
sliding from
one octave
to the next,
but mangled,
in the
fullness of too
much sound.
Poking
fingers,
pointing
accusations at
the notes as
they fly too
fast and too
furiously over
the dissonant
hum.
Middle
Fingers,
as the noise
becomes too
much and I
can’t stand the
murdered
sound of a song I’m
sure I know
but can’t name.
What is that
song being murdered?
It’s like
trying to figure out which of
your pigs is
being slaughtered by the
butcher just
by the sound of
it’s squeals.
Damp toes,
wading in
the blood of the tempo,
a tempo
tortured and
hammered,
nailed and crucified
by neglectful
hands.
Wait a sec…
It’s quiet
now…
Oh my…
Oh no.
It was just
my heartbeat in
my ears. Not
a piano at all,
just the
messy thumping of
my heart,
throbbing in my
ears, but
playing a familiar song.
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