• Musicology
    I dance to the beat of the music
    Verbal language, body language, telepathy, a woman’s intuition, her ancient spirit speaks from several tongues, harmonizing with the whispers of her ancestors. She hears the sound of humanity churning up in the deep breaths of the lungs—the twittering sound of love beating off into a flawed distance. She hears humanity’s voice crying out to the sky like “open sesame”, begging the Heavens to slide open its gates to clear a path for a Savior. A Savior—which is the good deep down in everyone, the good that airily beats with circadian rhythm. She hears the sound of music.

    Tangoing, meandering through scattered battlefields of triggers, broken trust and uncharted potential, our love was strangled in its sleep. Fading. Faded. Fated. But we weren’t sinking into a quieting depression, we were syncing into Mother Nature’s rioting impressions. She ripens our truth in the same way she ripened forbidden fruit—emancipating us from our primal existence. Awakened, we are the Alpha and the Omega. The language of marriage is our own to speak. We speak things into our existence—into our nonexistence. He slid his objective into my subjective and we spoke until our existence became exigent. And soon after we merged like a color fight underneath a magnet on a television screen, emerging like the white noise trudging through the between. Death became us.
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