The sound and obscurity...

I know why I make the "music" that I make. it doesn't incur a memory in my head. There is no emotional reference of it anywhere in my past. 90% of the time...I'm an open sore. But this stuff I make...is numbness.
Its why I can't come up with real words. That gives it context...which means it matters. Which makes it difficult.  ...I can't listen to women singing in the room with me. Or the sound of acoustic instruments resonating near me. It rips me wide open. Like that violin echoing through the canal. I lost control. I hate it. I hate it. Goodnight.