This is a story I wrote myself, called Heavy Metal.

If you don't like it, that's your opinion, tell all your friends, but don't post it here.

If you do like it, then please tell me. And if anyone would like more then I have three I think, and many other stories.

Heavy Metal

I'm leaving alone, no wild eyed love tight around my
arms, God forbid it be that easy, I leave tonight on a
stone cold ride that I don't know, that will just let me
go no thought to tame or calm, just let it go and ride
into the dark, leave this town behind where it's all
alright, hit the parties at night and sleep all day, the
headbangers in leather, tight pants and lipstick across
the room staring back at you as static reigns through
the crowd, the speakers boom as the treble hits the low
key and the heads hit the floor, the hafway point as the
rock fist glides high in the air, waving down and out of
sight with each little stroke that sends a sonic boom
through that crowd to the fox in tight pants across the
room. Make your move, forget about that town, the ride
you came in on warm in the lot needing another on the
back seat to fill it, call it the love of heavy metal,
the need to fullfil that lust, the clutch on the bike
ready to be set free and go away into the night again,
the beast is ready to devour, ride away on the two
seater filled up nice, but it's not that easy is it,
there isn't a bike with your name on it ready to get you
out of this star crossed lovers town aay to the party
scene where Pantera covers blow out the bass and fill
your ears with the sweet sound of a thrashing grind as
the fingers come down, the speakers on overload as that
static covers he crowd again, the fox is getting loose,
her gaze is drifting, on again to the next piece of
metal she can find, but where does that leave you? Yet
again, back at that town, crossing the paths of so many
you've seen before nothing new to chat about, you've
lost all love or remorse for this little shack on the
side of the road, another pit stop on the way to Heavy
Metal, the way where the foxes get tighter in those
pants and the lipstick is fresh on their lips, ready to
be smudged off. We'll have none of that, my white
collared son, no spikes will come out of my boys head,
no rock fist flying in the air as the bass gets louder
and the metal gets to the bone, grinds into the marrow
and lets go of everything you've been holding back, just
let fly, knock his jaw loose and take your ride into the
night so you can get away, pass this stop in the way to
Heavy Metal and see that fox strut through the crowd
like a razors edge because everyone knows she moves with
the purpose, purely of getting out of this place and
onto the metal, covered of course by the seat of the
ride, the deep tone of a revving engine as she gets away
in the night, back to wherever she wants to go to get
those tight jeans off and smear that lipstick on that
white collared boy to set him straight, or tear him up,
his initiation into Heavy Metal. Yes my child, this is
where you'll go, now that they've all been silened and
you're no longer his son, forget about being his boy,
this is your paradise, this is the booming bass and the
rocking speakers, the static of the crowd, the fox at
the bar and the fist in the air as each head comes down
like a riot in the streets as the music blasts. Yes,
child. This is it, your paradise. This is Heavy
Metal.

Is constructive criticism allowed?

Sure why not. I know it's not perfect.

My life story? thats a funny story, cause mine isa lie ._.

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We have no life. TROLOLOLO

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