Harder! Faster! Louder!
Tasting the rhythms, touching the melodies.
Searching for the song that haunts my mind.
And i find it.

A second there, a rhythm there, a note so high i cannot hear it, i find it.
Like a bug collector, like a connoisseur,
like an obsessed fetishist cutting out pictures of womens feet from his newspaper i take the tunes, i put them in order, i create a Frankensteins monster of music.
Trapped, held in so many songs is those rhythms, those tunes that makes you want to grow wings, rip through the roof of the car and surf through the streets as speakers the size of buildings roar out the command, the message that will set everyone free, that will make us fly and dance in the streets, the tunes that resonate in all our inner animals and lead us to make love on the freeways, fight in the hospitals, dance on the rooftops and run through the streets like the laughing madmen we really are...
in my dreams i hold a mike, and standing on a stage in the middle of everything i open more mouths than anything should have, and i scream the song of life, i howl with a thousand voices, and the people starts to resonate like the strings of the giant, incomprehensible guitar that covers the gigant city called earth.

and as the people laugh and cry and fly from the skyscrapers i scream and scream and scream...
the giant machines run wild, every cog is moving on it's own accord, in it's own pace. the smaller ones crack and fall of, the bigger ones spin faster and faster until their engines burn.
the fire, the hot black fire spreads into the crowd, and the people live, burning, and they never stop dancing.
but as the fire reach the stage i can smell the burning flesh, i can feel the heat, and it scares me.
one by one my mouths falter, they start to whimper and cry.
and as my mouths falter, the crowds starts to scream, for every mouth i lose, another beast feel it's pain.
and as the pain spreads, the crowd comes closer, burning flesh, burning screams, burning life...
they touch me, and the black fire is like tar, it sticks to me. beyond me the white swan is screaming, and the stars are screaming and i start to cry in shame and fear.
when they are done, when i lie there in burning pieces i wake up, and my pillow is wet, my eyes hurt and i forget the song of life...

Want to comment on this Prose? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Prose and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...