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You are minding your own business, doing what it is that you do best. The years have jaded you, caused you to become cynical. What idealism remained after your turbulent childhood was quickly extinguished by the cruel taunts of your peers and the disapproving glare of society. You remain adamantly convinced that the world and its inhabitants are shallow. Only you can see that.
Then you hear it. At first, it is barely noticeable, easily ignorable and you continue on your business without giving it a second thought. Then it becomes a bit louder, and you find yourself being interested against your own better judgement. Now that you've been given a taste, you want more, and you strain to catch those few notes that manage to make their way into your ear. It is the type of music that warms the soul, and for a moment, you forget all the sufferings that have beset you during your life.
The music suddenly stops, and the harsh truth of reality sets in. Where is the music? Where is it? The despair is crushing. You were given a taste of freedom, and now nothing seems more important to you than having it in your grasp again. Like a caged bird that has been given one brief moment to feel what it likes to soar the skies, you lose sight of everything else, hungering for that which cannot be grasped in your hands. You would give anything, anything to hear the music in its entirety.
Stumbling, you make a straight line for where your heart tells you the music will be. Your eyes are functional, yet you cannot see, for you have been blinded by your pursuit. You stumble, bump into objects. Your eyes see the obstacles, but your mind does not perceive. They might as well not be there.
Then it comes again. Oh, the beauty! Oh, magnificence! Behold the brilliance of all that is right in the world! Ave Maria! Hallelujah! This is what the world was meant to be, before mankind's greed corrupted it!
You stand, entranced. You have become a slave to the music. Tears that you thought you could not shed again fall freely from your eyes. Water becomes blood, and yet you do not care. Then you realize that your ears are bleeding. Still caught up in a stupor, you slowly bring your hands up to them, and feel something warm. Yet something is wrong. This is not blood. You have felt your own blood in your hands so many times, after cutting yourself often as a child, and you know it well. This liquid is not it.
It hits you. These fluids have come from the vessel of your mind, the brain! Unable to hold in its sheer joy at what it is hearing, your mind itself trembles and quivers, in anticipation of an orgasm. In horror, you cover your ears. The music vanishes. No! You cannot have that! You swore that you would do anything for the music! Your mind screams in anger and despair, much like a man whose cock has been grasped firmly to prevent him from coming on the verge of orgasm. The choice is yours to make. Continue listening and suffer the effects, or save yourself now? The answer is clear.
You lower your hands.
Then, eargasm. When the music hits the final pitch, time stands still for that one beautiful second, and fluids bursts from both ears, and you drop to your knees, your body unable to move, for your brain has ceased to function. The only thing that is keeping you alive is the determination to hear the music to its end.
The music ends. You fall to the floor, incapable of doing anything. A calm sleep sets upon you. Much like a child who slumbers after his mother sings a soft lullaby, your eyelids close as you start to fall into an eternal sleep from which you will not wake. You are free from the sufferings of the world.
Was it worth it? Was this song, this beautiful symphony that transcends mortal comprehension, a temptress as cruel as a devil, a miracle as divine as an angel, this song... was it worth it? For the sake of songs, you have paid the ultimate price. Was it worth it?
Yes.
This post has been edited by BlorgAlmighty: May 17 2011, 06:57
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Grumpy Grumpies Grumping, No, fuck you
May 16 2011, 22:38
