On the dark corners of an aged old street named after a dead man, it rained blood as night was at its prime. No iridescent glow could be seen coming from a desperate mans face with widened jaws ready to latch onto the next victim of the century. Art forms within his mind on each step he takes. Art was black and white. The floor cracks open from its own abuse and stones clack from the sweep of the feet that pry their way through their own life dragging all good from their souls and their hopeless bloodied bodies. Panting, sweating, it hurt. A gulp of foam. A change from plastic hearts. Cold and hot. It seeped deeper into his golden stomach that barred worse prisoners each time. Sentimental value of meaningless things. Thoughts. Words. A tongue. Worries drown a man, they can trap and kill. Awful and dead or worse alive. Yet not a hand stays still, only can one hear the vibration of blood pulsing through a vein. Gone white. No longer clean.
"I feel" the man spitted. It landed on Jeremy. Me. A single drop of spit, just dripped slowly down his. My. pale face.
Words drooped out of the mans mouth "I testify against them. It's only out of purity and honor a man must commit to this world"
"Possibly". I paused for a brief second before I could unfortunately get the unpleasant experience of this mans yellow eyes stare through me. They bled. They were cut. He was cut. I was cut. Ouch. I wait some more. His eyes settled. His body felt light, like bricks. A bag of red bricks, very red bricks. My favorite colour.
A thought popped into my head, my mind "sad". Yes. No, not really, I'm sorry, was it? I must disconnect from this. I can't get the man off me. No. Shit. He's connected to me, like black tar, it sticks to my clothes. I got up but nothing released. Let go. Don't hurt me.
It never gets easier.
