Sunday Morning 6 AM
Washing the dishes, he stares at the minutia of his life. Cherishes it utterly.
Because it is the bone and claw of life.
He walks his dog down the street; not a person in the cul de sac notices a boy with teal hair walking a Husky on a leather studded lash. It's six AM, and there's no time for chit-chat.
You're lining up a new bassist this afternoon, so it's important to be wakeful. Maybe you'll write your eightieth song today. This morning, the scale told you that you're gaining weight.
And hey, you smiled at yourself.
It's been a long time since misery had discovered you, wrapped itself around you. For months, you've been living someone else's dream.
The dream of another artist, not the one who lives in your skin.
You had to laugh when the call came; for months, you've been Vince's problem child. Not wanting to do a thing for the company, not wanting to even bother trying. You haven't been excited since your forehead smacked the glass ceiling and you looked up into Hunter's smiling face.
It was like being trapped in Sylvia's famous bell jar; on display, but not of use; taken our and run on special occasions. Want someone to throw themselves through a table for no fuss and no big money? Hardy will do it.
Not any more, he won't.
You got into this business when you were young and fearless; you're still young, but fear has poked you in the chest and demanded you lower your standards a bit. Who in the world, at such a young age, knows what they want to do with their lives?
You didn't. You don't even know where you're going now.
The only person you feel sorry for is Matt, alone in a dream he thought had been shared. And Trish, whose latest angle was now going in for 'heavy retooling'.
You don't know how she feels about it because you took your phone off of the hook. Let your hair fall down. Twirled around your old double-wide.
With the soul of a stoner and the face of a poet, maybe it's someplace new, original, and fresh. You can't stand the idea of repeating yourself.
At seven, you take out your sheet music. Time to play with the music in your mind and lock down the universe that was everything to you at one time.
Yeah. Time to dance
Time to find freedom.