#screwballing

[an-imaginary-outlet]

#goodmorning #cheeseburger #snowboarding #bukowski #dogsitting #screwballing #keychanges #rethinking #neworder (at Munich, Germany)

[andagony]

virginia didn’t smell like ashes.  it wasn’t scorched earth or familiar faces sliding off from bone.  unknown but welcoming, at first, the blacktop and all its debris felt no different beneath his steps.  nothing changed save for a humidity that stippled sweat thick across his brow.  an added sweetness in all the sour scents slid down sinuses into the back of his throat.  deceptive.  almost enough to mask the knowledge of what sat in the darker corners of the town in the distance.  why the barricade was dropped.  why he wore a mask of gore and stood, cloaked in so much  red.  a macabre scene made all the more so by silence and the soundless stride leading nick nearer the belly of this new beast.

far out from the city no longer offered promises.  meant nothing as far as the dead count rose and, his head down, jaw tight, nick knew the living would never idle too far away, either.  the reason for the hordes to begin with.  why his pulse had slowed.  pace joining it.  blending in with a pack to avoid their prey.  until the edge of the next block.  until the next town.  until his soles bled and then a couple miles more.  where opportunity stood on legs less feeble than those decaying around him.

until something caught their eye.

a cluster, shambling their way from the mass, pursuing a figure that’d, at the last minute, disappeared into a building what door sat, unhinged, and obstructing the entry way.  not the route he’d have favored.  no certain way out.  a stranger, trapped in a hole, surrounded by nails and teeth and a death he had no right to intervene on.  no  reason  to.  humanity a fickle thing, his stall hadn’t gone entirely unnoticed.  curious inhales and a few lingering stares —— him between the atoms.

strangers with death wishes deserved what they got.  it’s what he’d been thinking, hands wrapped ‘round the rails of a lopsided fire escape leading up up UP into a building he had no business being in.  floor soft with age and give.  rooms pitch and rotten.  creeping through the dark sat boldly against rules held for well over half a dozen years.  at least, whoever they were, when he found them, torn up into so many  PIECES,  he’d get to have their stuff.

randomizer said . . .     nick  &&  gabe  😎

               @screwballing  ———  that old af s.c. !!