Intonations, Modulations

warning: neither term will be employed correctly here.
the phrase i wanted to use doesn't make much sense at all.
'visceral impact.' it's about the guts. i wanted ears.
tonight, it's all about the noises.

we went back to the playground at young. i can barely fit in the doors of my elementary school. like alice, but not. like: kendall. give me some magic potion so i can shrink, keep shrinking, shrink until there is nothing left.

i swung. swang?
i leaned back, i let the night sky swallow me, i kicked the shit out of the stars.
and i bled on the woodchips. and she listened.

just give it one more day, she said. a day at a time.

a ball.
was this here when we got here?
yes.
oh.

a little too less air, the sound of the bounce was off,
but i sunk it. the chain-link net raped the rubber and i think i came.
what a beautiful, beautiful fucking sound.

i have to pee.
so? go pee.

i found a shadow that was dark enough, leaned
back against the rusty fence, and pissed a good piss.
i stared at the parking lot, painted orange by the lights,
a hissing in the background coupled with a relieving sensation,
and i thought, i don't do this nearly enough.

intonations, modulations.
the sounds:
a ball getting sucked into a mitt.
whack.
the first heartbeat radiating from a computer.
woopwoopwoopwoopwoop.
the blood pumping in your ears when you know what you're doing won't make sense in the morning.
inflections to die for.