Why can't I be Iggy Pop. He bears his self-inflicted scars, unashamed; he flaunts them. He sings his blue-eyed scarred soul. "Momma, I shot myself up...goddamit, I didn't know what I was doing."
Momma, I let myself die, slowly. Sinking into oblivion. Nirvana, draining out my ears. Christ, momma, I don't want to die! Christ, momma, please let me live, if only for today. Let me feel the rain come calling at my window. Let me feel it slide down my skin. Let me once more, at least, run circles in the rain, with no future, no past. Let all be hard breath and heartbeat, til I collapse in hysterical laughter, the mad laughter, eyes opening to the reflected awe of all.