Your staccato rhythm asserts its total control
An upbeat tempo, I may tolerate intermittently if at all.
To it I am drawn.
Thumping contorts to provocative restriction,
Background melding into melody in a bitter contradiction
Tempting a subdued beat to be released.
Atonal confusion with singular purpose,
Cacophonic, trying to find what it wants to express.
Losing its meaning in senseless ideals,
Stretching away from the essentials
Static seeping through the cracks of the vocals
Becomes a rasping moan