PLEASE turn the radio on

[xdeadpoeticx]

I cling to my headphones as if they were
my last ghastly gasps, the shaky grasp on
the resuscitators, scarily shaking
sucking at my static soul

this flatline, this vacant frequency

sends a thousand volts up my spine
and rattles against the empty bottle
that remains on the battered birch
block, resembling a battlefield
rather than a desk.

my mouth is dry like my pen,
scraping and scratching
for sounds and syllables

I surrender.

;ART has become my life.
college is approaching a close.
most of all, the haze is strong