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Aug 2010
Below One-Hundred Frequents,
Rattle,
They disturb my soul,
Rolled off,
Pushed away,
Drawn back,
With an introspective grin from ear to ear.

Penetrate thoughts with,
Waves of sub-aural patterns,
Trample them with raised rhythmic textures.
Wind down,
Breathe in,
Dark and let them permeate.

Twenty-Seven Frequents,
Stir my balance,
Nauseate the brain,
They flush the dance floor iridescence.

Nine Frequents,
To tremble the cage,
Until marrow sings.

Five cracks the walls it held,
Shatters the casing.

Two builds the pressure,
Pushes red through the glove.

And One is the,
Lub Dub,
Lub Dub,
Lub Dub.

Sound is a Lifeforce…
Copyright Luke Reed July 2010.
Written by
Luke Reed
890
 
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