D. R. Wormack
The opening note to the song starts a with humming C major 7th chord that enters the chest and reverberates down the vertebrae, sinking to the toes that curl, then settle. The soft, ph of the first line …floating…
down beside it, widens the mouth,
wets the tongue, and prepares the throat
to take the A suspended 2nd chord
that bends around the lungs, looping
tiny black bows flexible as molten tar
through the ribcage that creaks
like branches on nearby trees
under the weight of the wind. The C leaves,
pressurizes the brain with too much empty space,
tv static in the open air, blows out the retinas.
Blind, until a rattling F major 7th
rips through the top of the skull.
The crime tape of the instrument break
holds the body in place as the soul escapes
to the sky. (the second verse begins) The baritone grovels
…into…
latching claws on formless shoulders,
lifting them high above a willow
to fly with a hollow feeling. The thin skin
of flapping wings, the bats who searched
through soundwaves to find their meal
of aural pleasure: a Sextape.
The bats lead the soul to space, on the way,
cold wind slices through the core
with the grating teeth of a sawblade.
The bats feast on the carcass
and the soul floats away
and hits replay to take it
…one more time…
2023.
Inspired by this song.
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