This music is a proclamation-

it will steal you, drip it's sweet nectar

of familiarity into your ears,

wrap you tightly into it's finely-woven blanket of experience

and knowledge-security.

You will know this music,

feel this music with your eyes,

see the beat with your ears.

Intuitive senses used for a rhythmic counseling.

No.

I don't need some counselor,

some shadow,

on a 1991 Ethan Allen chair,

behind wire-rimmed glasses

to tell me I'm some adolescent hormone faux-pas-

to tell me I'm not who I should be.

No.

I will use this music

use these words,

these sounds,

these thoughts.

Let it take me,

let it wrap itself around me

still warm with the thought of a-second-ago.

I will let this music take me, a proclamation, let it entwine itself

around my body,
along my abdomen,
through my legs,

around my fingertips-

take me,

steal me,

let the music rape me.