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
and God's (as well as my) eternal misery.