Listening to music is a near death experience.

You don't feel more alive then when you were so close to dying.

The drums beat in time with my heart as I mentally plead for it never to stop.

My arms littered with goosebumps, lingering far longer than the cold could ever achieve.

My lungs want to need air, I want the urge to scream, to rip my hair out.

Music is the searing burn of perfection. I ask for it to keep me in pain.

Rip me up and tear me to pieces. 

Sew me back together with the strings of a guitar. And with the caress of a soft melody, don't let me fully heal. 

Leave a scar from the thievery of my ability to breathe. 

Give me the adrenaline to fear being alive, make me boldly defiant to the possibility of death.

Make the blood sing in my veins with the chorus, and never let it stop.

Let the start of each new song be my rebirth.

Let the fading sound of each one be my downfall.


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