Music

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I pull up the syringe

and inject the tune into my bloodstream

and I lose myself to the rise and fall of the rhythm

Everyday,

I medicate

to forget, to dream,

to fantasize and to be free.

My body is no longer

a bundle of nerves,

but a nest of coiled verses.

Yet I pull up the syringe again,

and I lose myself to the sweep of the rhythm.

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Skydance

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There is something tranquil about staring at old derelict buildings while listening to music. I drench myself in the rain of music, soaking in the tunes until my heart beats in rhythm and my soul waltzes in the fading blue sky. I love the view from above but sometimes I wish someone would join me on my mid-air dance.

The Gift

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He gifted me headphones; I was speechless.

We hadn’t spoken properly in months. No lengthy conversations about movies, music, or books, nothing. I barely looked at him when he was home. A gulf that had emerged between us and which was widening steadily seemed to have closed at a snap of the fingers. I had smiled with a sadness tugging at my eyes, surprised that he had remembered what I had said days back in a dull monotone, something about wishing for a new set of headphones.

Now I lean back on the sofa listening to his favourite tunes on the headphones thinking about the made-up games we had played when we were kids; but no, the gulf has risen once again, and all I hear is music unmingled with childhood laughter.