Pulchritudinous.

This is not mine. You may have read/heard this before.

"When I was a kid, my scumbag of a stepfather, once... *only once* took us camping. I'd never been out in the woods before, and I haven't been there since, really. But the time with my stepfather, I caught a toad, and I took him home in a box. I fed him bugs that I'd catch... roaches mostly, since that's what we had, mostly.

After it rained, I'd take him up on the roof of our building too. Seein' it was outside, I figured he'd like to hop around up there, and I *think* he really did. I like to think that.

But this one time...

There were older kids up there, and they saw what I had... and they said they were going to throw my toad off the roof. And they were. I *knew* it.

And I also knew I couldn't *let* them do that.

To me.

So I did it myself.


After, I went down to the street, to find it. I looked everywhere... But I never did."

Crossroads.

Tears running downing his cheek, out of his perfect eyes.

Brilliance beyond brilliance. Aqua into red tide.

No more now or ever, only crimson skies.

He forgave as I wept. I cried while he died.

He left our world with our sins as I pulled the spear out of his side.

Damned.

In the deepest pits of hell
A man of no age
Darkness and shadows
Could not pronounce his name
Cried the unidentified
"We the damned are plagued,
But from these brimstone walls
You can not escape"
His nightmares can be forgotten
Through the depths of time
For he knows
That even dreams can lie
The stars above the abyss
He watched everyday
Scouting the lands
A getaway he began to collate
This blood red kingdom stood silent
As ghosts roamed the hall
The fresh meat of Earth arrived
Condemned to this vault
Every poor and frightened soul
Brought to this anti-paradise
By a skeleton in robes
Wielding a staff with a tip like a knife
He was to torture them
Asking himself why
Make them cringe, cry and shout
He was not in it for the ride
His getaway needed to begin
Dreaming of being in the light
Spreading his wings
Ascending from this unholy shrine
Leaving behind the torture
His home, his palace, his cell
But alas, flying no higher
His wings began to melt
Doomed to rule over this prison
Made up of flames and broken glass
He spent the rest of eternity
Howling on Mar

Sin, City, Sin.

He woke up in one of the many Sin Cities.
The fly on the roof wouldn’t tell him which one.
His bad memories couldn’t.
The room smelt of Coca Cola and wild times, a smell he had grown very used to.
He lit himself a cherry cigarette and picked up the paper.
A naked lady lay beside him breathing to stay alive.
Sunlight and dust filled the room.
Thoughts ran through his head of skipping town.
Skipping the country.
Skipping the planet.
He had done that the night before.
Along with his little friend.
The bottle still sat next to him.
Orange like the fires of the sun.
As he got out of bed he heard honking of cars that had no respect for the hung over.
The dead.
The zombies of Neverland.
Leaning out the window he saw the city and it saw him.
It’s eyes staring.
His eye’s flaring.
The cigarette came to an end.
But his day had just begun.

The coffee was stale.
But the donut was pure ecstasy.
Blood red and rose crimson.
He poured the coffee down his throat and jumped in a yellow.
He jumped out.
The guitar shop on 5th was his heaven.
Mahogany bastards.
6 lines and 10 fingers.
The tune he plucked blew the mind of anyone who cared to listen.
Which wasn’t many.
The girl in black riffed along with her bass.
Sweet music that could never be sweet.
She kept playing, but he paused.
He grabbed a handful and swallowed.
Pain thrillers.
Reality killers.
His muse in a pill.
His music in a will.
But a bitch to swallow without water.
He walked out the store.
The music came to an end.
But his day had just begun.

Wine, chocolate, anger and sex.
And more drugs that you could imagine.
A hell of a week.
A week of hell.
But a lot of heaven too.
He hit the slots and the cards.
And the video games down on 7th.
Lost a couple of hundred he found in his coat pocket.
On 3’s and 7’s.
Won it back the next round.
With the exact same hand.
He loved this city.
Even if he didn’t know which one he was in.
He killed a couple of aliens.
Downed one cherry coke.
And spilt the other on some guy.
They stepped outside.
A hung over man and a complete stranger.
Fighting in broad daylight.
He looked up to the city.
But the city never looked down on him.
Blowing cash.
And getting smashed.
He loved this city more than life itself.
The fight came to an end.
But his day had just begun.

He strolled down Main Street.
The city was so bright with neon lights that he needed his sunglasses.
They didn’t help.
The neon lights were a combination of his imagination and acid.
Cons.
And cons.
Left after 50 metres and down a flight of stairs.
Into his favourite comic store.
Where the comics are cheap and the alcohol is cheaper.
A bomb and a pint.
He read an issue of the Cap.
And strolled out the door.
Where he bumped into Cherry.
They caught a cab and hired a room.
She kicked him out.
After 20 minutes and a smile on his face.
He went down to the bar.
Where he dropped another rock.
And sank another shot.
Headed out the front and stole a car.
100 miles along the coast.
And crashed into a post.
The ride came to an end.
But his day had just begun.

(To be continued.)

All the cool kids are doing it!

So I decided to get my old blog up and running again due to C-Man starting his. I doubt I will post as regularly as him, so just pop in and check it out now and then.

I look forward to putting some of my writing and stories up on here soon.

Thanks,

Nathan.