[Response to: He thought he was made of meat]
Half dancing half waiting. Watching a past great, son of dead great, moment of greatness shred the guitar like a deep deep deep purpleish moment of haze and blaze. The hipster feathers hats outfits boring….
Then I saw him. Flaky flaring hair. He used to have the longest hair. Bone Daddy. A huge fan, don’t know how that lead him to heroin. He dances with such joy. I heard he was married. He dances and bounces and dances and flances and flakes and jumps. I saw a girl put a cup in his back pocket. i followed suite, as if I was paying tribute to a god. A past god. He was filled with insane energy, extatic. You know when you see someone and you know every second that his muscles burst are more interesting then the moments you pop. Hold me!
My cup pops out. Tribute rejected. Heat, fire, blister, sweat… Melting and he keeps going. It wasn’t the heroin at all. It wasn’t even him. Not bone daddy, just the back of a cloud of familiar hair.