A Song Is Being Written

In the dark, there is no time for hesitation. A nightmare at my back closes in.
Not now. A song is being written.
There are voices coming from the shack, quick and precise. This room, only reachable by sympathetic vibrations seeping into the sleeping mind, is protected by a radiation field. Unnoticed in the middle of downtown San Francisco, a knife breaks the stillness of the ages.
I may take a walk to the other side.
The decision must be: do I leave or do I stay? 

The desert, an inch away from my throat, pierces through a thousand minds. Not now.
The shack continues to reverberate. Every Starbucks latte drinker in the city begins to explode. A meeting is taking place, crunching electricity spiraling upwards.
What if I continue to hum the tune?
As my brain chooses between the flicker of a shadow and the fiery doorway leading to the coffee cups of his very soul, the knife makes it look to outsiders like I already have the city.

I am afraid there will be no disguising this shack in the middle of anymore.
A flash goes: "Was that an earthquake?"
Forever I am straddling the melody, chords and electronic accents. What if I continue to hum the tune?
Those in the city are adding themselves into the mix.
A song is being written. The singer is ripping the walls of the shack, its contents unknown. Lyrics are coming forward now as the safe and the ordinary continue hesitating.
In the middle of a small shack stands a helicopter, the electric camouflage  increasing rapidly. What if I clear these words from throughout the chamber?

As space absent mindedly closes in, I listen closely.
Forever I am straddling the melody, chords and electronic accents. Some begin where the words explode in rapid-fire staccato.
Soon there will be the fire, the song, this enclave of sonic disturbance. Or worse, a small office where the echoes are safe to hide.
The static begins to choose the now and soon the nowhere.
What if I continue to hum the tune? 
A knife unnoticed in the middle of downtown San Francisco breaks the stillness of the ages. Do I choose, or do I die?
I take a walk to the other side.