Song to the siren.

Sometimes i'm made of songs. Of words and lines of melodies stuck together with sticky tape until it makes something that resembles my life. A picture of me painted with musical notes, copy, rewritten, a laser burning a line, cutting a groove, burning a hole. I'm a mish mash of sound bytes, of 120 giga bytes. Of I dont know how many love bites. Of all the things i've ever heard, seen and felt. I'll be *my* phonograph to play *my* favourite album back.

But how can I get back on track?

The most precise, brightest little light reads my every thought and feeling in raging red bursts from the coded sparkles of a shiny silver disc. I'm thinking with my ears and hearing with my head as it sings from my heart to my heart, criss-crossing then back again. I skip, rewind, play that same fucking track back. I sound like a broken record. Maybe I am. It still hurts when my heart misses a beat