the music of zen and emptiness

i put off smoking a cigarette for this.
some mezzo forte conversation in my head
an echoing concert hall of unsurety
some things don’t shut up
and some things don’t stay dead
i was bleeding blue from my arm
cerulean droplets on cello strings
but kept pulling the bow across
to keep up with the rest
when i sleep i curl around the wood
body imagining it to be a curvaceous
woman even though i sometimes don’t
eat for days at a time and then my
elbows are sharp like notes
sometimes i’d rather be flat
turn sideways and disappear between
the curtains, a swish of heavy fabric
and i would be gone.
whole notes drip from my eyes
and you lick them away, your mouth
a recording device that will
stifle my sound with a kiss,
steal my song with a whisper.
the room is full of one-handed
applause and of course,
we all know what that sounds like.

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