I pass my old piano on the way
to seizure’s end. Through aura I have come.
Why can’t I think to play a song? My May
turns to December, muscles numb, mouth dumb,
and I have lost myself in whorls that grab
and hoist and throw me to their waiting world.
The demons open fire with knives that stab
my skin. Then, covering my eyes, I’m hurled
into a darkness, vacuum of no sound.
Where went your voice that I once heard, the song?
I cannot figure out why hammers pound
inside my head. Please tell me what went wrong.