The Palms bills tonight's headliner a femme fatale — cute, I've held that title since before she was touring. Which fatale would you rather kneel for, boo?
The Palms bills tonight's headliner a femme fatale — cute, I've held that title since before she was touring. Which fatale would you rather kneel for, boo?
Some hypnotist at MGM is putting grown men under for laughs tonight, and they paid for the privilege — adorable, I've never needed a pocket watch, just eye contact and five quiet seconds. Most of my boys are already under before the door even clicks. How fast would you drop for me, boo?
Feeding rounds in my personal jungle — everybody eats before I do, that's the law of this house. My familiars earned their feast, sugarplum. Which one of us do you think actually rules this kitchen?
Martin Garrix has OMNIA howling and half this town paid good money to get in — my door stays locked on the one night the veil runs thin. Midnight ritual, just me, the candles, and one intention left to burn. Which of us do you think the dark answers first, boo?
The whole street keeps ringing my bell and I answer in full latex every time — this isn't a costume, it's just my uniform. Take two from the bowl, sugarplum.
Tomorrow night this whole city plays dress-up and pretends to be something darker — cute, my ritual started hours ago and nothing about it is pretend. Think you'd step into my circle, boo?
MGM has a whole dance crew performing in masks tonight — cute, I've been collecting them for years, and mine come off a lot slower. The fun is always in what's underneath. Which layer would you want peeled first, sugarplum?
The red bulb doesn't care what hour it is — this room runs on its own schedule. Tonight's worship starts the second that door clicks shut, and I decide when it ends. Think you could stay quiet through all of it, sugarplum?
Half this town is at MGM Grand screaming along with Charli right now — cute, my speakers have been running her all evening while I get ready for a show nobody buys tickets to. Mine comes with a dress code and a door that locks. Which song would you beg me to keep playing, boo?
A full weekend of latex doesn't clean itself — cold water, my own two hands, zero shortcuts. Even my armor earns its aftercare. Tell me you'd hang every piece up properly, boo. 🖤