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written by K.J. Feltges

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Wrapped in sequin skin
he took the stage.
Legs spread wide
pumping his body like glittering pistons.

The hysteria was religious
Flash cameras fractured the darkness
trying to capture a piece of his attack.

Hips gyrated.
Fingers sliced across the guitar
slaughtering the audience
with a raw, bleeding sound
that was easier felt than heard.

Surrounded by screams
he wiped his face
and the scarf was thrown
into the outstretched arms
that jab the darkness like spears.

A prisoner of the spotlights
he curled his lip
and fought back
The guitar was his gun.
But the victims were willing.
He could not win.

He tossed his head,
and long hair whipped the shining darkness.
His hand, decked with diamonds,
punched on the downbeat.
Shouts and clapping tore the air like thunder gone mad.
We wanted him.

choirboy outlaw
memphis messiah

The screams had become his blood.
He was ours.