He got locked into systems.

Even though he could see they weren't  impervious.

His rhythms seemed static,

The pleasant boundaries pulsing in place.

It was those times when people asked him to move beyond the walls.

He hadn't made the walls, but they still felt sacrosanct.

He felt anxious when he approached them.

Weird walls.

Walls that meant nothing except his confused sense of duty to an abstraction that he couldn't wrap his mind around.

There were limits to his thinking.

As he fought off the tortured stories of mistrust he sensed all around,

He fought the walls themselves.

He struggled to answer the unspoken questions.

Why couldn't he break them?

When would he be as tall as the walls themselves?

He had no answers. 

He only saw the systems locked in place.

His foolish feet planted.

A beat statically repeating.

In A Garage

The tools that I use draw me down

Into their hold, the music doesn't fit them

I don't know quite what I'm looking for.

I'm not sure that I should bother at all.

I can't find the soul in the chords.

I can't feel the lunge of the heart.

Only failed improvisations lost in

The weird twinge of keys.

Changes of time and octave and instrument don't work.

I'm not entirely surprised.

I can sing, but there's only the surprise of shouting.

A heartfelt note that can't linger past the moment.

Wherefore am I looking for the soul?

I don't see but the failed singular mechanism.

Unraveled

Which reveals that there is no soul.

I can't say we didn't try.

But I can say I didn't succeed.

I'm foolish for coming here,

But I'll probably try again sometime.