Ghosts Of Concerts Past

do you hear it?

or did I feel it?

maybe we're all too young to understand it.

but I do.

the words are ink

spilled

carefully across the rhythm.

but we listen carelessly, or all too closely.

the beat feels closer, tapping on veins and

filling our heads

with reckless dreams.

I feel this power.

a thousand and three bodies

pressed behind me,

carelessly alive.

our voices are a chorus of misfits

there's high and there's low.

there's the bass

endlessly echoes

deep in your chest,

the core of

the crowd.

the music fills me

with the universe.

each chord is a galaxy.

this is more than sheet music

this is more than a drumkit

this is the light in my eyes

this is what it means to feel alive.

every moment is a spark,

and they hang in the air,

vibrant, pulsing ghosts

i'm haunted in the best way.

I see my friends' faces

they're singing along.

It makes it easy to forget

that anything came before.

all I can remember is the folded white ticket

they checked at the door.

 

 

 

 

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