i sometimes find myself in a shifty state while sifting through the stacks of wax on the rack.
softly submerged in sub-sections i namelessly found jaywalking across various avenues of sound, i am boundlessly drifting through musical intersections at peace.
it is only within the ceasing decrease of sound that i find my soul uneasy.
a deaf, nearly departed sense of sound occupies the general consensus in the century i've found myself audibly in.
for a moment, this shortness of sight restricts my flight to soar beyond these soundless borders before me.
the driftwood washing up on familiar shores restores the soul sonic force within me and begins to flood my ear canals.
i close my eyes during the plight back to the fleeting sound of magic and i begin to glisten.
naturally, i return to the fleetwood mac, and i listen lovingly.