I like my city with a bit of poison
The mind. A vicious and terrible beast. It consumes the souls of men, women, children, and categorizes them at lightning speed into class before it stuffs them away into its deep recesses for all eternity. Or atleast until the mind takes out the trash. The mind is like a city - it has city blocks, police, passerbys, streets, town halls, and seedy back alleys. Theres crime in this city called 'Imagination', a terrible cesspool of wanton sex, drugs, and violence as is most cities on the eastern lobe.
This particular mind belongs to the the host body of 'Helgus Lovecraft', also known as the 'Black Widower'. His/Her mind is a bit on the torn and tattered side, as happens with most kids who've suffered their good deal of problems when growing up. Some might call him sexually confused. Others might call him demented, psychotic, sociopathic. Whatever he's called, theres simply somthing not right about him. Back to his mind.
The closest city akin to that of his mind, would be that of the black city 'Dis' in hell, where the people are burned inside of red hot caskets for all eternity. The skies are red with carnage, the clouds a sickly venomous green, and the buildings are a jagged onyx - scraping the skies with their needle tips and their red eye'd gargoyles. Tis a city of sin, with many people screaming up at their creator for mercy - thousands of black stage coaches spread across the city shouting evil propaganda into the sky. 'You're a freak, A Pig, A wanton whore, You'll never amount to anything. Kill them. Eat them. Take away all that makes them human.' The stage coaches cry. The radios play shrieking violins and the TV channels are filled with pictures of explicit acts of sex and violence. Tis a dieing city, the cancer called 'Madness' eating away at all that would make it healthy. The factories pump poison into the air, spewing out black tar into the drinking water - people are cannabalized openly on the city streets as people thirst for real food, real meat, real drinkable liquid. Questions in grafiti the only thing showing that there was once sanity. "Where is mother?" One question asks, "Why does it hurt so much?" asks another. The questions will never be answered, or perhaps they are already answered and that is what has driven this place into madness.
The cities are all this way..Yet in the farthest corners of the mind there is a white gleam, hidden underneath the dirt and grime of the ruined world outside. Wandering around the streets in the deepest recesses of the darkness is a small boy, holding a flash light to help him find his way. He is looking for somthing, and when he finds it - no more will the world be black, red, and green - but the rain will wash it all away. The day the boy finds his way, back through the looking glass.
The mind. A vicious and terrible beast. It consumes the souls of men, women, children, and categorizes them at lightning speed into class before it stuffs them away into its deep recesses for all eternity. Or atleast until the mind takes out the trash. The mind is like a city - it has city blocks, police, passerbys, streets, town halls, and seedy back alleys. Theres crime in this city called 'Imagination', a terrible cesspool of wanton sex, drugs, and violence as is most cities on the eastern lobe.
This particular mind belongs to the the host body of 'Helgus Lovecraft', also known as the 'Black Widower'. His/Her mind is a bit on the torn and tattered side, as happens with most kids who've suffered their good deal of problems when growing up. Some might call him sexually confused. Others might call him demented, psychotic, sociopathic. Whatever he's called, theres simply somthing not right about him. Back to his mind.
The closest city akin to that of his mind, would be that of the black city 'Dis' in hell, where the people are burned inside of red hot caskets for all eternity. The skies are red with carnage, the clouds a sickly venomous green, and the buildings are a jagged onyx - scraping the skies with their needle tips and their red eye'd gargoyles. Tis a city of sin, with many people screaming up at their creator for mercy - thousands of black stage coaches spread across the city shouting evil propaganda into the sky. 'You're a freak, A Pig, A wanton whore, You'll never amount to anything. Kill them. Eat them. Take away all that makes them human.' The stage coaches cry. The radios play shrieking violins and the TV channels are filled with pictures of explicit acts of sex and violence. Tis a dieing city, the cancer called 'Madness' eating away at all that would make it healthy. The factories pump poison into the air, spewing out black tar into the drinking water - people are cannabalized openly on the city streets as people thirst for real food, real meat, real drinkable liquid. Questions in grafiti the only thing showing that there was once sanity. "Where is mother?" One question asks, "Why does it hurt so much?" asks another. The questions will never be answered, or perhaps they are already answered and that is what has driven this place into madness.
The cities are all this way..Yet in the farthest corners of the mind there is a white gleam, hidden underneath the dirt and grime of the ruined world outside. Wandering around the streets in the deepest recesses of the darkness is a small boy, holding a flash light to help him find his way. He is looking for somthing, and when he finds it - no more will the world be black, red, and green - but the rain will wash it all away. The day the boy finds his way, back through the looking glass.
