To Iggy

That was it. Done. Over with. Bam. I became fascinated by this creature. He's like some being on another planet. He's like... wow. My heart was beating faster than I thought my body would allow. And then my mind gave way to the teenage hype hysteria over something. No. He isn't new. He's been around a long while... before my time. Iggy...

I never expect my mother to understand. "Are you working?" she asked, casting a glance at my computer screen. "Yes..." I say, voice slight higher pitched and less raspy as I quickly click out of a Google image search of Iggy Pop. I was desperate. Over and over again "Tonight" played. It almost rattled the house. "What's so good about that song?! It's just about some punk who died." Like I said, never expect a mother to understand.

I looked off glassy eyed, lips slightly parted in teenage fascination. He's raw. He's real. He's alive! I get him! I do! I do! My heart sang out praises though my lips never moved. They wonder whats wrong with me. I can only mumble some generic answer as I fall into the old pattern of arms wrapped around legs, twitching in an awkward poise to The Idiot. Over and over and over. Like a dog to its owner, drug addict to his drugs; THIS is my fix, god damn it! This is the thing I've been searching for. He is the thing that cuts right down to the core of my soul and shines a light on it. He's the one I wake up with in the morning then he is the one to sing me to sleep.

I know you'll never read this. I love you Iggy Pop.