the flood of images distracts me as a bewildering maze that overwhelms/ flashing across the eyes attempting to focus on the forward field in front of me/ two eyes meant to zone in on the object/ isolate and destroy...
sounds collide as crashing collages in a continuous web/ an atmosphere of decibels of varying densities/ ears sensing all directions with surround sound encouraging cacophony as the most delicious, exquisite harmony/ vibrating strings resonating eleven dimensions of melody/ encompass and embrace...
No wonder music is the stuff that dreams are made of...
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