Cowering, we hide our faces behind capes
Salvage what we possess:
The beginnings of a yawn
Could such an unsuspecting time of year fool a person into feeling more at ease?
Treasured memories are trifles
Chewing away at our eardrums
Pricking our ears with that contentious voice
Impertinent to life
Toward starvation, the fallow, snow covered hills and untenable shacks
Sway
That which has been taken will never be returned
Nothing we can do will save our remains from being stolen by the earth
Dusty bones will dry the Summer sun as wild dogs chew at our flesh
He sits there now, knees toward bare chest
Edging near the frozen water canal
Release
A short, cautionary, nearly hopeful sigh

Amidst anticipation and preparation
I could hardly hum along
Years since
I hear as the last few months of high school
Moss-strewn desert
Floral, perfume-clouded memories
Drip on
Down the walls, damp musty and alone
That chorus, repeat others
In our hollow cave reflections,
Holds no melody
More sufficient
Shattered, prattled teeth
Vibrate within

Abhoreal realms unreflective and hollow
Unearthed beyond the tendency to gleam
Torrid unhap’ly, oft laid sallow
Tired or dying, life’s tree
Stays open ‘til well after midnight
Constantly piroueeting
This world, tied to a thin line
Forgetting

Abounding in delight I think I will be alone forever
I may tarry down each avenue, sordid; even longer
Dangling suspicion toward emptiness
Hold me by the tail with each imagination
I will; I do-- While I am without that
Which impetus and hostility abashed-- it’s probably true
Dangling suspicion holds me

Each song is like a bookmark for the book of your life’s memories.

Each thumping bass line, each crescendo and every change in voice tone of the singer makes you cognizant of a time in the past during which you identified at some level with the musician.

To some degree, the words are clearer now than they ever were; in other aspects it’s like viewing a piece of art with younger eyes.

Likely, upon first hearing the song you did not completely empathize with the message.

Maybe you envisioned yourself in their place, wondering what you would feel or do.

Often times, upon hearing a favorite song from days past anew, our cumulative experiences since last hearing the song have made it possible for us to appreciate the meaning.

Sometimes we’ve actually been through the same thing as the singer.

At this point it’s almost like having a psychiatrist there asking you how the situation made you feel.

It compels you to think back to the incident and contemplate the momentousness of the occasion.

It allows you to grieve alongside the artist, to work through the problems which persist in your life as a result and hopefully, under the right circumstances listening to music can allow us to remove the bookmark and turn to the next page.