Veins pinned down by a stuttering mind
Blood spills out, always pumping in time
Voices cry harmoniously
The haunted sound of melancholy

Then fast and furious, a glimmer of wisdom
An epiphany, a lyrical mystery
But like all things, the [bad word] too soon
And all that’s left behind is a vague memory

Floating unconscious, a melody that glides
beat to the soul, hidden in our minds
Never quite escaping, confined by a reason
Inspiration slides in this Mirage of rhythm