Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Billy the Musical

Music is one of the very few things 
in this world that remind me that i'm human. 

When I think about why I'm here my brain 
becomes cloudy. 
Religion? God? 
Well Yes, I've always known that 

But where does truth live, and who says 
what you say is truth and what I say is not? 
Who says that this is not real, not full expression, 
not authenticity? Who says? 

You see, music makes me human because it possesses 
me without ever talking to me. 
Music never yells, 
and it makes me cry. 
Boy does it make me cry
Usually on long car rides
when i'm so insanely happy my cheeks hurt from
rambunctious smiles 
or so incredibly alone that five people don't answer their 
phones in a row
and my eyes droop to the back of my head with silence. 

Today I heard a song and imagined sweet sweaty hands holding 
my small round head singing it to my perfectly chapped perfection lips

Then I sat next to an artist and we harmonized over ukuleles 
and skittles 

Music has me so strung out that I could model my whole existence off of it
Become a musical and dedicate my life to it. 
Have a dream and say "I'm Fantine! Now let me sing!" 
Then Die. 
I hate that Fantine dies. She was such an important part to Jean 
and his future, their future. 

I'm sorry if you don't get my references by the way. 

Thanks Billy Pilgrim for being you. 
Reference again. 

But at the end of the day, I look at myself and am so god damn 
happy that i'm not strung out on perfection, 
that I don't fully know what I believe,
that life is not close to a curtain call 
and that pretty pictures and laughs, 
and especially music make me human. 

Thank goodness for that
and to the opportunity for moments to be stuck in time. 
Thanks Billy. 

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