photo from blocks on Unsplash
i can taste it... feel it in my bones. i want it so bad it hurts... to play music. i watch bands play like a predator stalking prey. watch them set up, break down... check the sound, load the van... like a hawk when they’re playin’. every instrument, every note... i watch the bends... how is it that they make that shrill tremolo sound??? with those shaking wrists and fingers... like b.b. king and those HUGE wailing notes! his hand looks like a wing flapping... pivoting on one finger... one note... beautiful. i watch the bassman slap and pluck and slide. all so simple... like he’s barely touching the strings... but from the amplifier comes this great booming thunder! i watch the audience... and how each individual has his or her own unique personal style of flailing funk! i watch to see what moves people... and to make sure that i am not the only one who cannot resist the imperious urge to shake and thrash every part of my body like i have suddenly become victim to a spontaneous exorcism and at any moment a little red demon is going to **jump out** through the center of my chest and start eating people!!! and sometimes... when i look up... i am the only one. and sometimes... i do feel like i am undergoing some sort of exorcism. in African tribal culture, they believed that the sound of booming drums drove out Evil spirits... and i believe it too. it was Hendrix who invited us to the Electric Church, and i have been a believer ever since! suicide what it’s like to want to die when you no longer hurt and you no longer cry pain you can handle but pain without emotion is unbearable the emptiness is uncomparable when you finally hit bottom and there’s nowhere left to go eternal loneliness plagues your mind a loveless life is all you’ll ever know so your thoughts turn to death you’re battered and broken from the fall suffering the pain and anguish of hell is better than feeling nothing at all lying on my back staring at the skies my legs crossed in front of me, my arms spread to each side i’m ready to die on my fallen cross the only thing to gain is loss oh lord please understand i didn’t pass the test, nor did i survive but know that i only take my body so that my soul may be alive. roberto zariskeeni ~ may 1997 Photography by Roberto Zariskeeni at Rob Z Photography in Fevers of the Mind Press Presents the Poets of 2020 Rob Z is a writer, photographer, musician living in Southern Indiana. He has had work published in our print editions of Fevers of the Mind Issue 1 June 2019.