His body creaked and groaned, alongside his vocals.

He was used to the dull, constant ache, at this point. Countless broken bones from poor life choices, will do that to you. He coughed once. Then proceeded to cough his lungs out. He mustered up phlegm and spat on the grey pavement. Black. Again, normal now. And that’s what years of drugs will do to you, kids.

It wasn’t really worth it, ay. Most of the muso cunts he’d known had OD’d on some drug or the other. He’d never been in his right mind to start, let alone keep, a proper girlfriend. He’d fucked tons of girls, don’t get me wrong. But after a while, they all started to look the same. Organic masses, that you could stick your cock in. Even keeping that up became harder over the years.

There was that one girl, though. Linda. Blonde messy hair, with black streaks and offensively bright red lipstick. She’d probably be the one, if any, that got away. She wanted ‘commitment.’

He kicked a rock. Was cooked nine outta ten days back then.

He checked his phone. The band was killing it at that time though, touring the country.

Checked his phone again. He was honest at the time, he’d said, ‘sorry love, we’re just not gonna happen. It’s definitely not you though.’

And she’d just cried, after that.

People are too fucking sensitive, in this life.

2 thoughts on “Frank

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