the guitar yells at me for not picking him up
the bass hides in the closet, feeling neglected
the drums are hollow and dull now, forgotten
the voice has left my throat, hiding somewhere
the poem disappeared under the weight of words
the paint evaporated much quicker than dried
the thoughts vacated before they ever moved in
the words were lost before even I was founded
the the the the the the the the the the the the the
the art is abandoned by those who can't follow
the lost sounds, ideas, pictures, and madness.