Through The Eyes Of

God, Sin, and a Dictator

Axl

I open the bathroom door and steam pours out into the now quite cool room. Izzy is laying on the bed with one arm behind his head, TV remote tucked in the other. One foot rests on the bed, the other on the floor. My beautiful dark angel.

"Oh hey," he says slowly with a smile. "Duff ran to McDonald's to grab burgers."

"Great, I'm fucking starving," I say plopping down in the bed in nothing but a towel.

"You gonna give him a peep show when he comes back?" Izzy asks me eyeing the towel and wondering if I plan to get dressed.

I huff, "I should after the way you eye fucked the frizzy headed kid."

Izzy smirks, "Now why do I have to be the one eye fucking him? Why can't he be eye fucking me? I'm good enough for you to look at all the time, any time you want, what's a fucking glance? The little fucker is just ambitious. You and me are known all over the strip. He's just trying to move up the ladder."

"If he wanted to fucking do that he would be all over Nikki Sixx's nuts wouldn't he?" I snap and pop up to grab a cigarette.

"If he even knows him," Izzy sighs and tosses me a lighter.

"I don't fucking trust him Izz. I saw the way he looked at you." I shrug and light a cigarette.

"I guess you missed the way he noticed you huh?" Izzy sighs extending his arm up to change the channel. I see a fresh blood mark on his arm.

I grab his arm, "What the fuck is this Izzy? I thought you said you cut back so we could go to Seattle without you getting fucking sick!"

He jerks his arm away and rolls his eyes. "Fuck off, I needed it, alright?"

God I hate the way he fucking says he needs it. When you need it it's a fucking addiction. Funny thing...denial, works both ways. For the junkie who can't see he has a problem and for the lover who chooses to ignore the problem. But shit can only go ignored so long. My thoughts on my next rant are interrupted by a knock at the door. Izzy seems relieved it shut me up for five seconds. He drags his ass out of bed and staggers to the door.

Duff hands him two burgers out of a bag. "You ok Izz?" he cautiously asks giving him a look over. Great, now someone else can see the fucking problem.

"I'm good, tired as fuck from the sun and shit," Izzy shrugs and looks down.

Duff's eyes find mine for some sort of mental confirmation on this misinformation of Izzy's. But I never tell Izzy's secrets. He hates that shit almost as much as he hates being dictated to. And let's just say he calls me a fucking dictator a lot.

"Well ok then," Duff smiles. "I have a hungry guitarist on my hands." he winks.

"I bet you do," Izzy says forcing the smile on his face. "Just don't waste all your energy. Tomorrow's gonna be a bitch."

"You know it," he nods and walks away.

Izzy shuts the door and tosses me a burger. He unwraps his and inspects it's contents on the way back to the bed.

"See, even Duff can tell how fucking high you are," I shake my head and ignore the burger in front of me all together.

"No he can't," Izzy retorts as he returns to the bed.

"Oh yes he can," I protest, "And it's just a matter of time before little mister ambitious notices too!"

"So?" Izzy asks taking a bite of his burger.

"So he's just a kid who wants to be part of the club. He will probably try the shit too. End up just like you, always 'needing' a fucking fix."

Izzy sighs, "You plan to be like this all fucking night? Or are you gonna eat your damn food? Weren't you starving and shit? Did the magical powers that be not shine this fucking burger down at you?"