Flung World

This poem came as a result for me reflecting on a dance piece I sound designed years ago. It was my fist foray into design work and I had a helluva time with it. These are the reflections some years later. 

flung-world

Drums beating,

Rhythm pounding

Chaos ensues.

Bodies flailing

Hissing echoes,

Droning incessantly.

Sweat flying,

Minds and

Bodies exhausted.

Pounding drums,

Uneven rhythms,

Scalding anger.

Doing nothing,

Can’t fix

My errors.

A slave

To these

Rampant emotions.

Eyes burning,

Ears pounding,

Mind throbbing.

Radiating disappointment,

Dark eyes

Stare straight

Through me.

Chilling, sickening.

I’m hopeless.

Boyfriend can’t

Be seen.

No time.

He listens

As I

Rant constantly.

He smiles,

Says I’m

Doing great.

He doesn’t

Know her.

The anger

Utterly paralyzing

Utterly terrifying.

Music’s dead.

Finally, a

Break through.

Music’s right.

I sigh,

Lean back

And smile.

My boy

Is right.

I’m okay.

Cheryl’s right

Too. It’s

Truly a

flung-world.