Headphones on the Elevated Tracks

It’s a nasty habit.

And I call it into action day after day.

I even rely on it.

I have a dependence.

On music.

I allow it to toy with my emotions.

                More than that.

                                I ask it to control them.

I want to feel a certain way

                so I play a certain song.

I want to remember a specific time

                so I peruse a specific genre.

I want to compartmentalize

                so I create a playlist.

I want to know God

                so I resurrect the same few songs.

                                over and over again

                                                and turn up the volume.

                                                                

But then it stops.

                click.

Internet blips or earbud falls

                and I remember reality.

The thing I can’t control.

The place I can’t manipulate.

The existence outside of myself.

And I wonder if any of the emotions I felt under my protective blanket of music were real.

So I begin to whistle.

And I escape the silence.