richard d.

by chris.

a bland beat on my skull can turn into an interesting one if
richard is the musician. too many speakers i have thrown away
due to him (they pulsed and throbbed under his weighty notes,
then gurgled and died as smoke rose from them in a small puff,
his finale).

and i've sometimes wondered, is his music a means to an end?
does he put a tab on his tongue, sit down at his computer, and
let the drug play the music?

i don't wonder this too often. it's not really important. what's
important is that i have it on a piece of plastic to play whenever
i want. it is awkward, calming, pain-inducing. threatening. curious.
but it is mine.

back to me