Whored it out! on his sleeve

   "So you wanna know bout'mixing the pot?" he asked her. "No" she shook her head, weepy, lonely. The music was in the room and the other girls were all close to him. He was playing the guitar. The drugs had taken effect and they were becoming ever more sensitive to the way he made them feel. He started talking. "It's actually a tragedy, real beauty, don't you know? he asked looking around, watching them react, high, light and drunk, in a wild reason of life. The groupies sat and waited to hear how the whole world died over and over and over again.
   "We live in a massive cauldron of hate and love mixing together. It's the dance between black and white" the sound of the guitar gathered in a feeling of silence in between its vibrations."Grey" he said laughing.
   "The Music is so good...God" one of the egg heads in the other end of the room moaned. It scared him, and he laughed out loud. "Love is pain and hate is perfection!" the girls went wild, the room was wet with passion and the past, everyone was dim and the shadows were dark and creeping. The Groups were in love, it was perfect. "I know, know, know, know, know" his voice echoed, touching them, shoving them down. "I'd trade it all to give you a....a ...a little push into the mind."
His skin was the skin of princes, she touched him, he was wearing a thick scarf, fox fur, and he felt of velvet. The night was somewhere that no one expected it to be, the gift was the sound that accepted their ridiculousness and loneliness in youth. The past was happening again and again.
   "Like do you think that we're badder ass then they were in the past?" He asked, strumming, providing them with his soundtrack. "Imagine the knights!" sitting there pondering he reflected watching the girls behave, they liked it. "They had to slaughter women and children" stopping to listen, leaving the guitar, electrically humming, ignoring the tone of the drums the boys in the back were beating. "They bathed in real death, they were beyond any fucking modern rocker, mother fucker, with a size six string dick." He stood up, heaving himself over three of the girls, who laughed watching him with their cave like stare. "This is the dream ladies!" he spoke, titanic, tortured and weak.
One of the ladies laughed, he took out a knife, with a blade that had a lot to say. He pointed the steel to his own throat. "No's" were gasping in the interior of the room, the depth of its stench stalling him, stopping him, giving him a chance to look around and see. "Everyone" he announce, tiered, stumbling, angry laughing, holding the night, a stain. No one turned to watch as he dramatically removed his heart.
   The applause came after he finished and all the rest of the girls waited for Her to eat. They were all so hungry, waiting for him to shut up and feed them his soul. Most of them played with the still beating heart, pawing at it. Until it stopped with a final thud and the Queen ate it.