Monday, April 5, 2010

Take 80's Bob Dylan

and exorcise all of his soul
that's what this sound is.
Howling along with his goddamn keyboard,
in the middle of the day.

His voice is low
and yelp-y, like a dog kicked
past the point of biting back.
It breaks and creaks,
like chalk scraping a chalkboard
while the teacher's acrylic nails
slowly dig into the hard, dark green plane.

It's a voice that burbles and mumbles.
Like a cracked, airy bass clarinet
distinct from the surrounding music
in its utter mediocrity.

The lies he tells himself must be Satan's
greatest blessing,
and God's (as well as my) eternal misery.

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