The dance beats don’t make any sense outside of my body. But they still make me shake, groan, twist my head and arms, to and fro. I wish I could record what’s going on in my head. My bed. It’s a clang. Some drum beats. Banshees screaming.

A bass line in my heart. Someone is slapping the strings, kind of like a funk groove, but less funk and more like yearning for something. All I can think of is you.

Violin is starting to play, reedy-sounding in the wind. It counters the beats of the noises in my head. The sound of a waterfall in the background. Trees are rustling. A clarinet. Tuba. Some electric scratching. An avalanche. Noise and discord. Screeching tires.

All I can think about is you.