Points on a Graph

my hand are itching
to rip apart myself
and the music's jumping in my
skull, vibrating my skin like
waves of sand on a drum after
every down-stroke

I gnaw my lip just to feel real
I write these words just to feel sane
I trip over my feet so I can realign my brain
to these neuro-signals; I'd do it all again

and yesterday, a few days ago,
I don't know but I do know that
it hurt so bad (just to live,
just to breathe) that I wanted to

scream
and throw
my drum
across the green
(though mostly dirt)
practice field.
I would
not stop
and I would
wrench my hands
into the skin
just above my ears,
drop to my knees
and drive them into
the ground and clench
my stomach tight and
hyper-ventilate and writhe
like I'm in pain,
and make a scene
until someone would come over to me
and maybe-

but instead.
I stood
and took it all in,
like the sun in my eyes
and swallowed,
like I drained the light from the sky.

Author's Note

I play drums in my school marching band. I'm section leader, as well. That day...that morning...was really hard for me, and not just because I had no authority over my drumline.
pic by gyaban on deviantart http://gyaban.deviantart.com/art/Let-it-rain-298967236

Reviews

[LScottD]

Needs much work...misspelled words, sentence structure, syntax, flow, etc.