Scars and Songs Read Free Page A

lead freaking singer and worthless guitarist.  There’s nothing else to me.  Empty.  Hollow.  Not even a glimmer of the walking god I once was.  I’m the lead singer .  What the hell does that even mean?  Who cares?  I didn’t cure fucking cancer with my voice, did I?  Nope.  I sure didn’t cure cancer with my dick, so why the hell does she want to jump on it.  It’s not like I’m ever going to have a thing with her.
    “You suck, Shane Maxton!”  The girl yelled after me.
    “Yeah, but I’m not as good as you, sweetheart.”
    By the time I stumbled to the hallway and looked back, the chick was sucking on Tucker’s bottom lip.  With the same lips that were just on my cock.  I vomited all over the rug.  Then I laughed, because there was no way in hell I was cleaning that neon green puke up and I doubted anyone saw me do it.  It would be yet another stain on Tucker’s rug that everyone would wonder about, like the deep red one under the table.  I swear I thought that’s where he might have killed a hooker .
    Stepping right over it, I staggered to the door, waved goodbye to whoever could see me and practically crawled down the hall to my apartment.   Every night was the same.  Every.  Night.  Another show tomorrow night, another party.  Each one ended with me trying to…forget… 
    Hearing my front door slam shut behind me startled me, drowned all the voices into the outside world, and relieved me of some of my stress and anxiety.   Sounds of the music and the party were gone, and finally I was by myself, where I could just be me, and not the piece of shit jackass they knew me to be.  I toppled into my bedroom, reached for my guitar and poured out my soul.
     
    Walking that long winding road
    It’s dark and I’m all alone
    Here I am, somewhere in here
    But where the hell is home
    I sing these words of sorrow for who I am inside
    A boy with a tarnished halo, damaged dreams
    And brothers who have lied
    I pray for my grace and redemption
    With hope in this human shell
    Through all the smoke and ashes,
    And the fires I’ve called home in hell
    But, I will never regret my deed
    For her, my heart still longs
    Taken, she was what I was made for
    All I have now are my scars and songs
    And here I am
    All alone again
    With all my scars and songs
    Strung out from this world
    Where angels don’t belong
    -Shane Maxton Mad World
    Dear God, I fucking miss her .
     
    I passed out, wrapped around my guitar with my zipper still open and my junk laying out on my thigh.  Ready to relive the same mindless, worthless and pathetic existence tomorrow night.

Chapter 2
     
    Of course, the party was still going strong when I woke up at six o’clock the next morning. However, by then, it had spread into my apartment and I was no longer in my room. I was in the Bone Room and I was not alone.   There was a long tan body almost naked lying next to me.  Huh?
    She was squeezed into a tiny black skirt that was made with such little material, the soft curves of her ass peeked out of the bottom, and they were fucking smiling at me.  Hellllooo . 
    I stood up slowly and reached for my boxer shorts that were draped over the back of the armchair in the corner of the room.  After grabbing them and pulling them up quickly, I stood in the soft glow of the rising sun through the window, and gazed down at the figure in the bed I had just left.  Her back was facing me, her head resting on her arm, and her long, golden blonde hair fell around the pillows that surrounded her. 
    What the hell did I do last night?   I looked down at the girl, vomit rising in my throat, and tried to remember what happened after I played my guitar.  In my room.  Alone.
    I remembered the knock on my door.  The blonde was topless, and fuck, I am only human.
    Then we were in the Bone Room and were walking clumsily, kissing and sucking at each other, tongues and mouths and fingers touching each other as we stumbled onto the bed.  She pulled my