Gogo will sit on her plastic matt,the sound of friction as her worn out marrows rub.She folds her bipedal limbs…

 Her wrinkled slender fingers will beat at the chords,in a slow slow hypnotic tune,her blood will pulsate at the very vivid connection with the rhythm…

Drawing a breeze,her diaphragm will if the molecules of her oxygen were bonded with musical notes… 
The Acoustic.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s