an old instrument with rusty strings

he sits alone in the

darkness

on a wooden chair

The walls surrounding him

have no

mirrors and

the windows are covered

by the thickest blinds

He doesn’t want to see his

old age

and the decay that already

started consuming

his body

In his mind he’s still

young, still

in his early twenties

still dreaming

He’s listening to music

He’s playing the music

and it exhausts him

The music comes from

within

An instrument with strings

His growling guts

He lubricates them with more

beer

***

WITH AUDIO:

https://bogdandragos.com/2021/01/25/an-old-instrument-with-rusty-strings/