daisy chains

mr golden sun, pls (dont) shine down on me (4)

they're holding an audition at the theater, and I can hear the cameras flashing. is it my turn now, I wonder?

and then i look down the sink, and im sucked into the pipe, and I can't breathe because my big hair got stuck somewhere and I only see the diner upside down and through a dirty screen. i don't want to be here for the rest of my life.

it costs 50 bucks and some tips to be there. who said it costs nothing to chase your dreams? i bet Grace Kelly had a limo drive her around. when she died in her car, with a crash and a bang, did she see herself at her first audition? or did she scream and yell and cry? and was she happy? dont swallow the pills, just kick at your accelerator until you can't feel any resistance and you slam into a tree, a boulder, anything. what a romantic way to die, with bowie on tape and your kids passed out in the back.

i don't do well at the audition. i don't know what i was auditioning for. they called my name and i sang a song i can't remember the title of. i can't sing very well, not as well as whitney or loud as cher. then i do a little jig, spit out a few rhymes, hook myself up on one of those plush and red curtains and become a tight rope dancer for the hour, hanging by the muscles on my arms. please. cut me some slack. my hands have never been as dry beneath the dishwasher soap as they are today. i can make good coffee, I can meet issac newton one day and lose him in the next, and i can wipe down counters to the beat of johnny cash's debut album.

i guess doing the split mid-air wasn't impressive. breaking my hymen like i break the bones of my hips just to be perfect, just to fit into the box, just to get a check mark next to my name, and "expect a call."

i don't get a call. i throw my phone away into the river on my way back home, and watch it sink to the bottom. im not grace kelly. im never going to be grace kelly, all i wanna be is away from here.

it snows that night. in california, i see the sun kiss itself wildly, and it comes down at the people, holding their arms up towards the sky.

thanks, sun. guess im not seeing you at your birthday party next year.