Only son, chosen son, favorite son. Green Day, B-Side, Savior. American Idiot B-sides so sought after in illegal digital downloadable files. Won't you forgive me for my past sins? It's not that I don't have a conscience, but when music saves your life minute to minute in such a way that your teenage self finds reason to wake up again and willingly suffer when the morning comes, what would you do? What would you do to save your own life? Father / son relationship, foundational up on the altar. Mortor and pestle technology at a time when time was flat circle, as was the conception of the earth. Reigning down up Dumbo-like acid trips each raindrop a different tye-dye color. Raspberry Godiva bar at the Barnes and Nobel checkout. Some magical experience when a purchase is made and the air is cool and quiet smells like coffee and pages of books unopened, begging to be read. There is a sparse sparkle inside my soul where I feel like those books, and when I pop open that cover and crack open those pages, gently scanning and turning, it is almost as if the same is being done to me; I am being opened, I am opening myself up to knowledge and new worlds and new possibilities and an opportunity to dive into solitude and love myself somehow. To teach myself something. Let it teach me. Scant shackle shanties spinning away from time now. 

Author: Roe

she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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