I Digress

Music is happening here. Every chime is a chapter. I listen and listen for what else is needed like tasting my food, and season the score with the right sounds. Along the way, I’ve found a rhythm in my life. Be here now, do this today, restock, research, rest; the repetitive every day thing that I have to do every day or every week and somehow this is what moves me to the next phrase. Long story short, I did something different every day until I became a different person. I wanted to change. I wanted growth. I wanted to wake up with different problems and new ways of dealing with them.

I love music, and I love it enough to admit that putting in my headphones and ignoring the world isn’t going to dissolve my hurt. It’s a bandaid to distract from the betrayals until I turn the noise down and starting screaming in the streets again. I don’t even know the truth. I don’t even know what happened, but I trust my gut, and I trust my nose, and I trust that shaking in my chest, just before your stomach but right after your ribs that tells you that nothing will ever be the same.

Screaming and pissing, I was reborn in the streets with my finest rags; adorned in swagger with dark humor as a dagger, I had jokes I could say for a gift or a gag.

I digress, I digress.

Music happens, I guess.

They said I was for the streets.

I’m a hood chick at best.