Saturday, March 7, 2015

record (throwback.)

December 15, 2011 at 5:32pm

the machine just went grey when it started,

and out through the window, the sun fades

and you could turn yourself in -

what you did to us, it made us sense

in each and everyone, something awful -

a tiny voice, precarious and muffled

when we want, we can halt the static

and start the record again, down from the attic

from vinyl, into the air

to hear again, the voice - what wasted,

what uncherished smiles and eyes and

what a repeatedly breaking heart,

when the machine comes on.

it hiccups through tracks and bounces

through the boundaries, what a polar

and uncommonly unholy way to bound

through this devastation, but keep it

keep the record playing.

keep the machine on.

what a difference the sounds would

make to some one that would believe

in the stuff, this love. what rasping

breaths of young love, but it's still

it's so wasted, the melody,

the time it keeps, no more matter,

it doesn't matter. it's the same sad

song. but keep it playing it.

for our sake,

keep the machine on.