I sat at the concert of souls with a cast of characters I had surmised entirely (although maybe not entirely) from my fictions. I rested on my paws, blue guitar in hand, it was a resonant neon-sounding instrument on which I could pluck a melody of baby hair and screws with equal delight and disorder, the growing echoes of a crowd swelling below in the pit. I looked across at the holographic fluorescent sign above the Japanese vendors; they wore blue, white and yellow, black translucent letters forming messages both cryptic and wistful.
I gazed over to the band on the stage, their costumes of intricate spandex and retro beads, a Bowie-esque construct of haircuts and eyeliner, skinny, pale, fe/male. I, apart (with my beard and cynicism sat perched), observed a man with blonde hair, round glasses and full red lips, the taught and studious movements of stone rippled like dissonant chords over the stanzas filling the spaces between his breaths.
They beckoned me to the stage, constantly wanting their instigator, their creator, I smile to myself as I gently shake my head.
A thunder of light hits me and I am drawn in by the melodies and tribal rhythms of the music. I pick up my blue guitar and pace, step by step, to the growing storm gathering before me. Feet stamp, hands strum, sticks beat, dancers whirl, tongues collide, lungs inhale, Heavens open. I walk faster, faster and faster, sharper, they pant, they stare, the pores of my skin open as the noise seeps in, the bumps swell in a primal howl, it burns and builds, burns and builds, burns and builds, burns and...
stops.
They look at me, in perfect silence. I saddle my guitar over my shoulder, I take one last look at my fictions, my dearest fictions, those around me, those drawn in, those drawn out of expectations and dreams. They are people I never knew.
The deafening clarity of the silent screams awakes me, I know what they expect and I am inclined to give it to them, to wear their laurels and drink their caveats, but no, they are mine, my construction and I do the only thing I know, I turn off the lights and play.
I gazed over to the band on the stage, their costumes of intricate spandex and retro beads, a Bowie-esque construct of haircuts and eyeliner, skinny, pale, fe/male. I, apart (with my beard and cynicism sat perched), observed a man with blonde hair, round glasses and full red lips, the taught and studious movements of stone rippled like dissonant chords over the stanzas filling the spaces between his breaths.
They beckoned me to the stage, constantly wanting their instigator, their creator, I smile to myself as I gently shake my head.
A thunder of light hits me and I am drawn in by the melodies and tribal rhythms of the music. I pick up my blue guitar and pace, step by step, to the growing storm gathering before me. Feet stamp, hands strum, sticks beat, dancers whirl, tongues collide, lungs inhale, Heavens open. I walk faster, faster and faster, sharper, they pant, they stare, the pores of my skin open as the noise seeps in, the bumps swell in a primal howl, it burns and builds, burns and builds, burns and builds, burns and...
stops.
They look at me, in perfect silence. I saddle my guitar over my shoulder, I take one last look at my fictions, my dearest fictions, those around me, those drawn in, those drawn out of expectations and dreams. They are people I never knew.
The deafening clarity of the silent screams awakes me, I know what they expect and I am inclined to give it to them, to wear their laurels and drink their caveats, but no, they are mine, my construction and I do the only thing I know, I turn off the lights and play.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
i was just looking through my friends list at people i hadnt talk to and thought id say hi.. cuz its rude not to huh!!??
ahaha.
so i hope things r cool and maybe chat sometime =]] xxxx
shes reallly cute..
omg its too early 8.30am aaaahhhh lol =[[ not good