Escapist Playlist

no sex no drugs / boasts the YouTube comments, / no naked girls just 100% good

music— / I’m streaming a music video from that clean kiddie band I used to loop / and

that’s when I realize how much of my music is about Hell, nowadays. / How to get

there / how to get there fast. Music that I can’t mention during icebreaker breakouts

or / put on my little sisters’ playlists, / beats addictively bitter in my mouth; / it sounds

like underage drinking, / & more than a sip / if a song could inject mutiny into my blood.

I open Spotify to resurrect / myself from the fatigue of / ambiance: rely on the blast / to

bang against my ribs like rock queens bellowing / over bass. Their chant: heavy metal

CPR, / make me come back / alive. / When the music pans through my earbuds, my brain

sways; / rocketfuel rolling inside my temple, / one side weighted with sound—

Electrically kinesthetic / like virtual reality via sound waves, or / an overload craving,

like a tongue stretching towards / oversaturated Skittles. Like sugar and candy dye

melting into my spit. / Turning it colors like the backdrop of a superhero flick /

electropop and leitmotifs / until the opening scene blooms / behind my eyelids— /

I’m watching movies in my head again / but let me. Let me listen to my glitches

in peace / my film scores / my symphonic rock / my escapist playlist / my alternative

realities. / Let me down these earworm / electrolytes hoping to make the world holy. /

To make the world loud / enough to drown in & out; / loud enough even / to ignore.