expression.
The pounding of the drums resonated in my ears. Taking a glance at my bassist, I smirked and ran my tongue up the mic stand. He laughed and turned to the crowd, fingers strumming along to the deep rhythm of the music. The crowd screamed even louder as I clambered on top of the speakers.
With the mic in hand, I stood and glanced at the masses of people in front of me. Their arms waved wildly, the screams never stopping.
Putting the mic to my lips, I screamed along with them. Drawing in a deep breath, I put the mic to my lips again and screeched. Every part of me was shaking.
This is just too much. I looked up to the sky as the mic fell from my hand. Almost desperately, I clawed at my chest, feeling the burning sensation trickle across my skin. The blood spurted and covered over my hands.
Suddenly, the music became louder. The crowd yelled my name and jumped up, threatening to climb onto the stage and pull me into their grasp.
Stepping down from the speakers, I went to one side of the stage. I was too caught up in the moment. I put my hands in my mouth, and pulled at the wet flesh until I felt the salty taste of iron paint my lips. I stared at my bloody hands and ran them up my chest.
All this blood, what does this mean?
I wiped my face, and blood dripped into my eyes. Grabbing the mic off the floor, I punched my guitarist in the arm. He looked at me blankly for a second.
This blood. I want more.
Out of exhaustion, I fell to the floor.
"Kyo-sama!" a high voice shrilled.
I sang a few lyrics as I slowly stood up. The cuts stung as I beat my chest, singing as loud as I could into the mic.
I was helpless. There was no other way to express myself other than the music that I lived for. This is what my life had become.