My relation to the station, is dead, a complication, the souls, are trapped in their bodies faded then seeped in my basement.
My face is, alive as the voices speak five, sentences about what they did when they were alive. One of them cut ties with females and loved to fly, another one broke a heart in tiers but never cried. The next loved drugs, but he never did love a girl, he found lust in a glass pipe but nightmares in her curls. He hated and blamed the world, crushed diamonds on top of pearls, but switched back fast when life gave him vanilla swirls.
Sensual society, the voices are eyeing me, telling me keep the batteries fresh, they rely on me. Don’t sit in rooms silently they yell so violently, I told them to detach but instead of that they are prying me. Open, Im smoking, toking broken tobacco drawing the smoke in, wake up in the dark morning, it was my mind pouring, the image into my mind, it must be the voices, telling me watch my back and think deeply about my choices.
The station is still on, I keep the batteries fresh, I red the whites of my eyes, they no longer match my flesh, i'm up trying my best, scribbling on my test, the voices the voices, waves of sound came and never left. Is there anything to get, besides lips hips and breasts? I'm stupid I know the answer, find symphonies in her breaths. Find spaces between the text, the white matches my flesh, I turn the radio off, the voices slip into rest.

Rest…

Another voice returns to me, it whispers things in my ear, sweet sensual slow sentences melt away all my fear. A smile is plastered heavy, I whisper back when it let me, the music changes the setting, the radio is still resting.
The five voices are so small now, thrown down the hall now, I am ready to fall down. Love it all now. Excited but I am calmed down. Heart pump heavy when you call now. Coast as my car stalls out.
Radios and voices, call to make appointments, where you at? I'm joining, let's just rest.

Rest…

Black and white, yin yang, ready for the big game, turning on the radio voices tell me where I lay? Will I rest forever in an abyss? Will I live forever craving her kiss? Will my stomach hurt every time that I miss? Will a bullet fly fast then split my wig? Will I turn left late and get hit? Will my neck snap back, with just one wrist flip? Will my ears bleed rivers into my liver, when the radio turns up to full blast i'm not with her, my sanity shifts and withers downtown and we taking pictures, reading her texts like scriptures, she my sweet home Lynyrd Skynyrd.
Rest.
I feel the voices lose their breathe, I leave the batteries in, not much longer till’ their dead.
Rest.
I feel her line of breathe, hey girl how much time is left, I need an hour to rest.

But not sleeping, the voices peeping,  finding small ways to creep in, I hear the old floorboards squeaking, their strength withers and weakens every day and every weekend , their power fills up then leaks in, the basement, it cracks in pieces, the pieces shoot like police is, cant find where the receipt is. 
They can't return, voices watch from the window as their building burns, the street back to me, it has a million turns, the voices burn to ash and slowly slip into an urn.
I pipe up when they get her, the moment turns to a blur, I dig you yes I conquer, I promise that I am sure, I'd die in this comforter, I know exactly where my mind's at when I start to make the turn.
My relation to the station is a gone one, block it from my head cause I'm sure that it's the wrong one.

Rest, rest, rest, rest, rest, rest.