Newgrounds.com — Everything, By Everyone.

Hell bent on twisted avenues.

Drunk and disarmed...

Every day we dressed ourselves in a different style of cloth that was claimed to the latest fashion and style. With each cloth we became something else, someone else. These facades suited neither of us and they were unsettling and they were untrue. We had unknowingly become juxtaposed in disheartening blues and stained with that inhumanely inane lackluster grey. . .

In the blink of an eye our whole world would conceptually change.

We were once the weary - then we became the strong . We were once the bleak and now we are the appealing. We had become blind to the vaguest of hues. We yawned at the bleak blues and turned our heads to the dishonest greys. Bright vibrant spectrums filled the void of our once culminating melancholy.

Every stammered consonant and all the negative connotations. Every spiteful word of every broken sentence. From me to you. Reciprocated. From you to me. All that my darling was merely a passing storm. We are above those pretenders who once dressed themselves in our skin. We showed them no mercy and we didn't spare them our blades.

Like children we danced through the streets without a care in the world about who or what had or hadn't been thought of us.

We feasted on all the fruits from the low hanging branches of the towering trees. These fruits we would gather and create a wine that caused such a preeminent intoxication that would gratify each of our desires. However ambitious our new entities seemed, they carried only one concern. Self-Gratification. This was the one thing in me that you required; it too was the only thing I truly desired from you.

We cared little for possession and riches, we cared only for ourselves. Carrying only what we could hold and holding only what we could conceivably call true. We lived inattentive of God, Fate, Government, and our native state. We indifferently made peace with those who found little pleasure in our simple joys. Just a slight wave of our hands and a pair of lip-pursed grins. Then we continued on our way... seamlessly drifting along.

I just recently joined NG several years being a frequent visitor. So I just thought to myself, "Hell, why not join, hopefully I'll have some interesting conversations with some unique individuals and join in on some good banter."
I'm in total support of having a writing portal. I'm a Journalism major; so I like to write. I guess you could say I'm an "aspiring writer" but I feel so pretentious when I say such a thing. I'm in my early twenties, so I'm still trying to find my own literary voice. Anyways, I invite constructive criticism to anyone interested in reading what I will post in the forums and on my page.
With all that being said...
Lets fight the powers at be and get ourselves a writing portal.

This city... she aches.

With her alleyways riddled with graffiti of angst and despair.
Homes and bussiness wrapped in disrepair.
Street lamps fluttering like eyelids at the scare of a dream.
These people they ache-
Unassuaged by their, "what couldve beens" and "what never was."
Payment of pain and fear-
Causing enough pressure to send splinters of cracks through the cement-
and tumble the foundation of their once believed homes.
No money for food- No soil to facilitate growth.
No sons to raise- Not a single shred of success to praise.
This now old but once fair city...
Well she clearly aches.
Self depreciating and yet...
She still remains so vacuously self absorbed.
Grey tarnished and old...
Covered in dust and ash-
Renovated in vain and still scornfully dressed in her past.
Her songs of praise have long since been forgotten.
This once bustling metropolis is nothing more than meek and distant memories-
Street cars now immobile-
Subway stations have become roosts for the abundance of litter.
Her vibrant parks, art and renowned architecture-
Lay dissevered amongst the ramshacked hopes and dreams of her truly beloved.

This city... She aches.