"Opus 28: Escape"

Drunk, disconnected words hover

Hollow

In the frigid air,

Garbled and slurred by the

Smudged Wine glasses.

...

Hearts crack open with the corse, convoluted,

Hollow

Conversations beneath the steady, heavy,

Humdrum of the hourly news,

Pouring out their discontent.

...

The irreverent, irrevocable, irritating,

Hollow,

Voices speak and spatter out a wordy clatter,

Rising and waning with the steady sip of wine,

Hoarsely haranguing with dark disdain.

...

I leave the room, pausing with one last

Hollow

Glance of pity, regret, and fear behind my back;

They speak and the news drones and drones

About the rising tied of discontent.

...

Entering the shadowed, empty,

Quiet

Room with my piano sitting silent on the side,

Music spilled along the floor,

I light a lamp and slowly sit.

...

Softly, I play out my emotions with serenity,

Quietly,

Sweetly, slowly, and solemnly,

Dwelling on the craggy chords of my discontent,

Playing the hollow pitter-patter of my heart.

...

Still soft and easy, I relax and lose myself in the

Quiet.

The arpeggios and elegiac grace notes

Twinkle with the grim attire of some evasive nocturne

Of cascading hands and plodding base.

...

A familiar theme seems to stream with a

Quiet,

Reflective, and instinctive tone I've come to know,

Playing for the rainy morns or snowy skies,

With tones that undulate and breath with sighs.

...

A little louder now the music ebbs and grows.

Sincere

Notes half-harmonize in minor, melancholy odes

That resound with the pound of my sleepy heart

And fade away.

...

Still louder the cadenzas crowd the melody.

Sincere

Chromatic chords and dissonant disdaining tones

Echo and rise, resound and rise, repeat and rise,

And suddenly fade away.

...

Sweet sweeping sounds circulate and chime;

Sincere, sorrowful,

Sonorous, themes resound as doleful elegies

Take me away from this world,

With the news droning and the voices arguing away.

...

I fade, but I do not fight the fading, for I know that I will awake

Hollow,

Longing again to escape my bleak perceptions

And feel the plodding of a beating heart

Or hear the hymn of rainy days and smudged wine glasses.