not even jail

this song won't let me be.

i cannot sit still and smile serenely. it refuses me this simple appreciation.

in fact, it threatens me to violent outburst.

when i hear those sirens it sets my foot to tapping. my arms come up to my sides in a slow stutter shake of rhythmic convulsions. my head nods in time to whip my hair about my eyes and face. i'm arrested by a crescendo pulse that keeps building on a simple beat until my tiny fists are drumming furiously onto my desk, the steering wheel, the air, whatever is in front of me.

there's a filthy seduction hidden in the sound. like being hit on by someone you know is trouble, but who, all the same, you cannot resist.

and so you're in this hungry, sweaty embrace with the song. and you're sucking hard to draw breath. and now you're feeding on the tempestuous frenzy, acting the slut with your soul until it leaves you crumpled with corruption.

when it's over you've got bruises in all the places that don't show.

and there's nothing to stop this from happening all over again.

not even jail.