Marination...Wine...Writing...Good combo? No’ always.Y’uft. This isny a poem,it’s a random...Stringing of words.Pseudo stanzas...Drunken rambling,unedited.Crap.And that’s the way it shall stay. For the record, I’m not that drunk, and that "isny", is a Scottish word, so not a typo. I’m tipsy, but not drunk. If I was drunk, I’d still be able to type and make some sort of sense, but that’s my curse. I haven’t been rat-arsed...
For those who have never experienced true cold, the kind that gnaws into your bones and raises the hair on your neck, let me tell you: true cold is white. Your skin bleaches, feeling rubbery, barely part of you any more. Your body bursts into spontaneous shivers, but scarier still are the moments of stillness, only allowing your body to get colder. I huddled deeper into my anorak as I assessed the white plain: beautiful,...
Author...Alan Taylor. Chapter 1 The End. Al had always believed those who beg for mercy the most probably deserve it the least, that’s why Nemski was laying on the floor now. The smoking gun still in Al’s hand and Nemskis heart pumping blood out of the three bullet holes in his chest. He smiled grimly, when it came to the showdown Nemskis bodyguards and thugs were no help to him at all. Outside the deserted tenement and o...
