A restless silence fills my bones

It breathes and bites and tears at my skin

I am but a wounded animal surrounded by wolves

Vulnerable as an empty shell, breaking at the slightest touch.

No breath to fill my lungs, no blood to fill my veins

I usher in my demons like guests to my home

I cannot stop them, for I do not try

There is no sound to move me to hold onto my life.

As the devil and god both whisper my name

I throw my lifeless body into the ocean and surrender to the silence.

Under the waves I sink further and further

Lost in the throes of the deep with no will to swim above

The water fills my lungs and I am somehow content.

For with no song, what good are lungs?

What good is my blood with no drums beckoning it to flow?

What good is my soul with no chords to lift it high above my body?

What good are my bones if they cannot rattle in their cage at the sound of an angel's voice?

Without music, my body is an empty house left to the ghosts of my mind.

Where blood once ran violently through bringing life to my soul

My veins now lie empty, plagued by beasts I cannot control.

I will not attempt to stop them, though; for why should I?

Without music I have no desire to live, therefore I cannot live.