Untitled.

It was raining.
The noise had peacefully filled the undertones of the room.
The music was playing endlessly.
I sat in a pair of navy blue boxers and in a loose, burgundy t-shirt. Melodies of mix-matched songs filled my fishbowl head. My brain gurgled and sloshed as it digested idly the tunes playing one after the other. My eyes had begun to eclipse. My mind was fading to a black.
With little notice, a poignant, beautiful sound echoed against the glass walls of my skull. My sight was reestablished. I glanced at the stucco ceiling without really seeing. The rain was dispensing without sound. I cocked my head awkwardly towards the music maker. The name of that foreboding song, one of just a few, glared towards me innocently.
Was it my disposition that created the glare? How could a song know its irrelevant meanings?
I stared for many seconds at the light blue title, coyly floating on a white screen.
I felt it stare back.
The soft, feminine vocals began activate as the song struck thirty two seconds. I felt the nonchalant atmosphere cupped by a soft rain had been pillaged by the beautiful, painful voice of the woman whom I held no face. The song continued slowly.
Memories locked in their cages began to creep and crawl like a low mist would between forest trees. I sat paralyzed with the sound of the superlative female ode in that crazy moon language.
The taste upon my tongue was of bitter longing, hopelessness and denial. I swallowed down the decay. In my stomach the mass rotted and soured my belly. I felt the warnings all over again. I could smell the autumn air and see the earth as it burned peacefully. It was the season of the last breath, it was.
The song was reaching a summit, and I felt assaulted and overwhelmed. You are being tested, I told myself.
You are being tested.
I reached for a button, however my hand frosted over. I watched the seconds flicker upon the screen. Why was it so hard to change the song? Why was I so infatuated with it as it brought so much sorrow? I felt like I had pressed a trigger to a cold gun against my tongue.
The room was instantly at peace again. My mind bubbled and the pebbles clattered. The spring rain was louder now, and yet passive. I allowed the static noise of water upon my window to clothe my eyes and envelope me into Z’s.