I crave music. It itches behind my ears in the silence, demanding relief. Come in the house, music. Drive home, music (call mom). Write, music. My writing music typically has no lyrics. It is loud and full of rich sound. Stirs something in me, or maybe quiets.
Tonight the words being rhymed over these ridiculous beats are blissfully blending to one more instrumental track. Sounds over syllables. Emotion rising and falling in such a human way. What am I doing now?