Faltered demise

Turn up the volume so I can drown in my music,
intoxicating feeling,
mute the rest,
it interest me not a bit.

Intricate murals paints my vision,
tainted by specks of imperfection;
turn up the volume,
it interest me not a bit.

Trepidation in exaltation,
quiver not but only when uncertain,
turn up the volume,
mute the rest.

Preaching doves perched true,
white only under its wings;
a legacy of intimacy,
drown my music in you.