This was done as a single generation from an initial upload, cropped out the excess silence at the start and the end. Had to re-clip as the old one was lacking the last 22 seconds of audio. my b ___________________ There’s this question - don’t know who invited it, But it’s crashing on my couch, unshakable. “What sounds fit the mess I’m making today?” “What noise’ll spill out of me next?” My mouth moves faster than my head- Click. Hum. Snap. Crash. I’m a walking car wreck of onomatopoeia. Fall apart, glue it back, then watch it shatter again. Who am I if not the noise that’s leaking out? Every note feels stolen, every word feels loud. I’m trying to stitch this mess into something real, But the thread keeps fraying in my hands. Ssshhh - do you hear it? The cracks where the rhythm trips over itself. It’s buried in the static, A voice that doesn’t sound like mine I keep tapping out this stupid beat- The edge of the desk feels like my last safe place. What if the song doesn’t show? What if the silence swallows it whole? I swear I can hear it laughing. I hum anyway, because- What’s the alternative? I stretch syllables ‘til they scream, Bend notes ‘til they snap. Doesn’t matter if it sounds like me, As long as it sounds like something. What if I’m just the noise I can’t control? Every sound a piece I’ll never hold. I’m chasing this breath, this beat, this rhythm- But it’s running circles around me. Ssshhh - do you hear it? The beat I’m too scared to face. It’s hiding in the spaces, The melody I’m not sure I can trace. I don’t know what this song wants from me. It’s soft, then sharp- It pushes, pulls, twists me up in knots. The notes fall apart, then snap into place. It’s a rhythm I can’t escape, A sound that doesn’t feel like mine. Maybe it’s not mine- Maybe it never was. There’s this question - it won’t let me go. What sounds will escape? What will the machine take? I hum fragments, mouth the air, An onomatopoeia still learning how to speak. Forever incomplete.