anxiety ridden <br />basement punk concerts <br />and its like im existing <br />only there <br />feeling passionate and <br />less alone <br />more complete <br />i guess music is a bandage <br />which makes my migranes worse <br />but its well worth the rush <br />to remind me that i still breathe <br />and i walk the streets <br />with run down keys poking through <br />my tiny fist <br />because the threat of assult and danger <br />at night <br />is more real <br />all alone <br />on my way home <br />still dazzled and in love <br />with raw pounding drum beats <br />with vicious guitar chords <br />with screaming vocals <br />i just walk the street <br />in awe <br />stars in my eyes <br />counter-culture burning fire in my heart <br />humming melodies <br />reminding me that <br />im <br />actually <br /> alive <br /> <br />(10/10/09)<br /><br />Lane Morein<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/thoughts-around-midnight/
