Hyo Shin Blossoms

Hyo-Shin Blossoms

Callused fingers plugged song into the desert, black and white keys
The atmosphere

A man wails
Slashing time with paper cuts of rhythm
Creating a Beautiful Tomorrow

Vaulted hearts, unlock
Rammed droozy
Of brown
Want of Levitating

His picture tinted, drained of color
The man in black crow jacket
Opens his mouth and a hawk climbs out
Its claws birthing
Into the air
Veins dancing like hammer felts under skin
A roadmap of vibrations paint on his throat

The curtains upstairs
Billow frantically

The sky wants to fall
Feeling the weight of her vast body
For the first time
Mistaking her home
In the arms of the Pilot with the microphone
Higher than the wind

Wild Flower’s singer must be blind
Perceiving the world in notes
Drifting and playing
Fluttering into focus

He lives in another realm

The climax hatches
Exorcising souls
With his lyrics

The blurred man in the background
Attacks the mixed keys
In time
A rivalry sparked with the voice
Trying to mount higher

The Weeping Violin-Man
Traces his past
With Up and down notes
Loosening the buttons
On his vocals
Bursting heaven into your ears

A train track laid for this
Orchestra of emotion
So flawlessly
An alien language can be understood

A bath of sorrow is filled
Mingling in his throat

He doesn’t seem to need a breath
Memoir from a gate of lips
Shattering absent windowpanes

Pink haze behind;
Stage frightened sunrise
Is covered by the Friend zoned sky
With gray sheets

City lights of barren land
Winking their acknowledgment
In the distance

His mouth speaks of flaming petals
To wilt

Hands held up ever so often
To question himself

The Wild Flower that survives

With bulging tones
To bloom again

Soft Lalalalalalas fade
Cascading regret

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