Musician: A Sonnet

A tumor, a scar, a surgical incision:

I’m strapped to the table while the music plays.

Your voice hacks into me with such precision.

(That’s what you get when you date this musician.)

A lyrical tribute about when you’ve blazed

and how you spent your month of Sundays

are all songs begging for content revision.

Now it’s not that I’m square; I’m just cubed.

If you hum it different, you’ll feel trapped

by your mechanical fingers and music that’s flat.

It’s not about me, it’s all you,

but during the solo I’m thinking that

I need some way to get you back

for unintentional unease, an unconscious groove.

Note: I wrote this in 2005, not understanding the role I had in creating—or wrecking—my own happiness. It’s not okay to be involved with someone, hoping he or she will change or otherwise revise their art/mind/life in order to make you comfortable. If you don’t agree with someone’s choices and lifestyles, save each other’s sanity and spare the sadness by not pursuing the relationship. Instead, get to the heart of who you really are, decide what is integral to you, and be confident in yourself and the knowledge that your most important values definitely line up with those of someone great out there!

The original version of the sonnet

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