The stench of what was a paranormal tang came from the garbage in the back.
The waste was in the corner of the alley perpendicular from the door which was used
rarely. The snow was starting to melt and cause pools of indescribable flavor, which was
an ordinary feast for the felines who fell from their homes, located directly above the
pub. Perhaps the owners of these critters, these poised, agile felines did not want or care
for them correctly; conceivably they were rubbish as well. Unimaginably speaking
everything in my life is a never ending retrospect of dying worthless garbage. I have
made friends with the felines of feasting pools, though my smell has become more rank
than theirs. I am the Judas of the world, an outcast, an abomination of
incomprehensible dogma. I proceed to take the lid off of the container which is holding in
the rank smell of putridity and awfulness; I then immerse myself within its contents.
Stale aroma, maggots and gristle, wreaks havoc on my gum line, but I need not worry.
A foreboding tale was told of me in the pub which aligns itself with the alley, I call my home.
I am said to be of witch, or shall I say…a warlock? But, I must think myself as more
of a wizard who has thrown himself into the underlying hierarchy of a judgmental society,
the creators of yours truly. This is not my story, for it is the story of the man whose
heart I consumed tonight.
The palpitating heart- beats in my hands to a rhythm that was unknown
before tonight. A lulling lullaby that could put the demons asleep, this was the heart of a
man that love’s cold touch devoured. An impending doom for a man who was unknown
to such desires, has found me in this cold dark alley, located perpendicular from the
door which was used rarely. This underwhelming normality that was often over looked
and infallible to the naked eye. This man using slurs of vulgarity and torment to his
peers because of a male he once lusted for. The thought in which, has tormented the
very fabric of his intertwining soul. He stumbled into the pub with a cold pint of frothy beer,
the pub owner told him to leave the pint outside, and this crushed his morale even more.
He was a baron, plain man with low self-esteem and a loathing for society. A coward with
a low tempered constraint, that seemed to keep him conglomerated to the corner of a pile
of societies disposable sons. He was worthless; a typical bureaucratic type official, with
years of school under his belt and pounds of coin in his wallet, but yet, the look on this
man’s longing face was indescribable.
It is unofficial for me to tell you how he looked before he came into my alley.
This alley has seen many of his type. This longing individual who often was a mere
lame-ass, who could not subscribe to the fundamentals of what society wants him to be.
My mind has lost track of the amount of different individuals that have soaked my pallet
with crimson core. I have tried to forewarn this individual to not make his way to me. For it
was written on the walls by his mother before him, “don’t let it happen to you.” This seems
to easy, now a days, with the way things are going today. And the way in which people
are conducting themselves and throwing their selves at each other, this way and that
way. A lust pool of individuals’ cavorting with each other with no end in sight, no church
in mind. Let the church burn they say, let them have the same rights they say. The grip
the church has had on the nation nearly consumes all of the irrational minds. You see,
the church forbids the lust and love for two men to exist, and this is where I come into
play. Society frowns upon this idea and I feast on it, I feast on the hearts of these men,
for they cannot share their hearts with whom they want. They share it with a false identity,
the mask is worn and society greets them with arms wide open and they live life in
the shadows, in my alley, longing for what they once had, their heart.