Creative wirting
And what remains, for the rest of my days?
A skeletal structure of former great times, and friends that once were.
When everyone moves on with life and leaves you behind, do you pack your bags and go onward yourself?
or do you sit in fear and wait for something new to cross your path so you can get a jump on it.
Ive been waiting,
creeping,
and sleeping,
in fear of change.
And yet, change has slowly devoured my entire state of begin,
I am nothing but change.
I can no longer make decisions, because by the time I carry them out,
I change my decision.
I need a center. Somewhere, Something, Someone, to start fighting back agianst this change.
TO wage a war on my slowly growing insanity. To stand up for, and to work towards.
I will get through this, and be a better person for it.
CHAPTER 1
Slowly, the boy moved down the long dark alley, a bead of blood running down his arm. This bead of blood signified all the broken dreams, and lost hopes in his life. Was it his life? No, he couldn’t any longer consider this his life. This was an eternity of punishment. Why did he deserve to fall into the hands of the devil, to be tortured day upon day by a unrevivaled disease, a sickness, set deep into his bones. A pain that stemmed from the base of his spine, down to his very toenails.
And as he threw the needle to the ground, he lurched forward, his lungs and throat burning. As he vomited in this alley, his prison, his home. He remembered times that were, when he had his mothers loving embrace, and the pride, that lurked in his fathers eyes. The boy he once was, a prodigy, a star. He was moved up two grades, in fifth grade. And even in the seventh grade level he excelled above all the other students. Everyone had great hope for him. Even he was excited about the future. Now, he dwelled on the past. His excellent mind nothing more then a torturous place that he resided in when he had nowhere else to turn. Very rarely would any answer he need emerge from this darkness, Just confusion, boredom and lonelieness. The street he wandered onto, Kensington ave. Scattered along the walls, like large garbage bags, were the hopeless, the broken, and the nearly departed. These men and women had suffered his affliction their whole life. Yet, they continued to abuse their bodies, and their minds with substance. Its true, he had been abusing for 4 years now, but some of these people have been here for over 20. He looked down upon them in disgust, the very scent of them churned the vile in his stomache to the point where he may have vomited again. As he inhaled, he sat back along the wall, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.
This is why he put up with the sickness, the pain, and the rejection. The few moments of ecstacy that was created within him. By him, By using shit that ran his life, and destroyed his soul.
Chapter 2.
As he slowly awoke from his daydream, he seen someone out of the corner of his eye. Or did he? As he raced to his feet, he ran down the street to see where it had turned. But nothing but a enormous spoonful of disappointment was shoved down his throat. It haunted him quite often, The loss.
That’s how he described it, as the loss. The one thing he cherished in his life, the one thing he missed above all things. He didn’t know how to describe it. He would never call it love. Love was some grand, splendid thing with no wrong. This was more like infatuation, his one sided love. He adored a girl that he was once with, and no matter how long time has passed by Her face was burned into the back of his skull. To haunt him every time he shut his eyes.
It was time for another fix, time to make this haunting end. As he seen the lady who he thought was his long lost angel, he noticed the fine purse she carried. As his teeth ground into his lip, muscles burning with agony. Lunging forth with a almost animal like ferocity he grasped the bag and wrenched the woman to the ground, violently kicking and screaming. A great relief came over him as he ran off, into the darkness, into the place he called home. No pursuer could follow here, no man could keep up with the pace he had. He was like a rat, slipping away into a grimy, dirty hole. Grinning, Seeing it as a skill, where most would see it as a plague.
A skeletal structure of former great times, and friends that once were.
When everyone moves on with life and leaves you behind, do you pack your bags and go onward yourself?
or do you sit in fear and wait for something new to cross your path so you can get a jump on it.
Ive been waiting,
creeping,
and sleeping,
in fear of change.
And yet, change has slowly devoured my entire state of begin,
I am nothing but change.
I can no longer make decisions, because by the time I carry them out,
I change my decision.
I need a center. Somewhere, Something, Someone, to start fighting back agianst this change.
TO wage a war on my slowly growing insanity. To stand up for, and to work towards.
I will get through this, and be a better person for it.
CHAPTER 1
Slowly, the boy moved down the long dark alley, a bead of blood running down his arm. This bead of blood signified all the broken dreams, and lost hopes in his life. Was it his life? No, he couldn’t any longer consider this his life. This was an eternity of punishment. Why did he deserve to fall into the hands of the devil, to be tortured day upon day by a unrevivaled disease, a sickness, set deep into his bones. A pain that stemmed from the base of his spine, down to his very toenails.
And as he threw the needle to the ground, he lurched forward, his lungs and throat burning. As he vomited in this alley, his prison, his home. He remembered times that were, when he had his mothers loving embrace, and the pride, that lurked in his fathers eyes. The boy he once was, a prodigy, a star. He was moved up two grades, in fifth grade. And even in the seventh grade level he excelled above all the other students. Everyone had great hope for him. Even he was excited about the future. Now, he dwelled on the past. His excellent mind nothing more then a torturous place that he resided in when he had nowhere else to turn. Very rarely would any answer he need emerge from this darkness, Just confusion, boredom and lonelieness. The street he wandered onto, Kensington ave. Scattered along the walls, like large garbage bags, were the hopeless, the broken, and the nearly departed. These men and women had suffered his affliction their whole life. Yet, they continued to abuse their bodies, and their minds with substance. Its true, he had been abusing for 4 years now, but some of these people have been here for over 20. He looked down upon them in disgust, the very scent of them churned the vile in his stomache to the point where he may have vomited again. As he inhaled, he sat back along the wall, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.
This is why he put up with the sickness, the pain, and the rejection. The few moments of ecstacy that was created within him. By him, By using shit that ran his life, and destroyed his soul.
Chapter 2.
As he slowly awoke from his daydream, he seen someone out of the corner of his eye. Or did he? As he raced to his feet, he ran down the street to see where it had turned. But nothing but a enormous spoonful of disappointment was shoved down his throat. It haunted him quite often, The loss.
That’s how he described it, as the loss. The one thing he cherished in his life, the one thing he missed above all things. He didn’t know how to describe it. He would never call it love. Love was some grand, splendid thing with no wrong. This was more like infatuation, his one sided love. He adored a girl that he was once with, and no matter how long time has passed by Her face was burned into the back of his skull. To haunt him every time he shut his eyes.
It was time for another fix, time to make this haunting end. As he seen the lady who he thought was his long lost angel, he noticed the fine purse she carried. As his teeth ground into his lip, muscles burning with agony. Lunging forth with a almost animal like ferocity he grasped the bag and wrenched the woman to the ground, violently kicking and screaming. A great relief came over him as he ran off, into the darkness, into the place he called home. No pursuer could follow here, no man could keep up with the pace he had. He was like a rat, slipping away into a grimy, dirty hole. Grinning, Seeing it as a skill, where most would see it as a plague.