It was the alcohol, that cheap bastard beer with its malevolent residual effects sticking in my lower intestine, irritated bowels were making me grumpy today. So I decided to see my old friends Ben G. and Ann L., the two biggest heads I knew, and maybe they could provide the cure for what was ailing me. The streets were all lined with dealers and hustlers these days, I don’t even remember what the good old days were like anymore, and maybe they weren’t any better than this. I drank, and get drunk, to eliminate with sedation those jarring sensations that back up the fear that seems to seethe beneath the raw flesh undulating with puerile desires like sex and drugs. I sat alone in my apartment last night drinking the cheapest beer I could find, further realizing how low I wanted to go, and nothing had stopped until I felt numb enough to simulate happiness. Sitting in a wooden chair in the middle of the main room with a grimace heavy on my face, remembering the past misdeeds I had done to myself and others, and confusing the will to betterment with the eradicating factor of self-destruction. Sobriety was killing me, the more unable to drift beyond the real world around me, but still stuck only inside my head. The harsh dryness of seeking more substance, and taking that for granted. The rotgut had twisted my mind into a crazy impulse that stormed through the halls in the dark, screaming belligerently at strangers, and condemning myself and others for this state of the crap. God, I was so wasted last night that it felt like I was throwing up my own genitals in that state of frenzy.
As I walked out of the complex, where I live snug between other tenements, I began to gather my thoughts about the state of things. The government rules our lives like it always has, but something made me think everything was wrong, what they have always told me was annoying my sense of right. Effects like this should not be cumulative, but here we were, implanted in a society where corrupt was just another way of doing business. There are few things that cannot be tolerated here with an exception for the privileged masses, but procreation is one of those things, luckily for the friends who also liked to fuck like bunnies. Deviants of all behaviors were allowed to roam the streets with improbable intents, and with anxiety over the current state of things, the joys of sex were always quite far from my thoughts. Intercourse is understandable, but there are many authority-devised barriers when wishing to conceive or give birth to something new. Public bathroom stall filled with obnoxious scrawling as I tried to relieve some of my intestinal pain the natural way. Next to me, I could tell that two men were having rough anal sex, or so I would assume. Rough trade was allowed everywhere, this is what it means to refer to these freedoms, and with more of us becoming so claustrophobic as we are squeezed together around here.
The abortive wing of the government handles all national vasectomies, and the unwanted pregnancies are handled with the utmost professionalism, a clinical unity that has defined progress to the species beyond those most inhumane practices. Many facets including wars and strife in other images have been remodeled as well. I then hear the post-climax revelry of shooting some smack, as one of the boys leaves the next stall over, and I ponder this while smoking a cigarette in the middle of my stink. Smoking and drinking and drugging are greatly endorsed practices of population control by the masses, but unwarranted children are the bane of society seething beneath the surface of a respectable veneer, as the children still get out of control everywhere. However ridiculous it may seem it is all law now, and even the heroin homosexual next to me realizes what potential mess is being flushed through his system. Pushing the excremental bliss of ignorance captured in glimpses, and totalitarian rules bequeathed sane as rubbish in the bin. While devils run amok, and the tidbits of wisdom they assail us with is that extremity that the whole hinders itself with.
The louts and the fiends gather at the preconditioned moments created by this universal tension, aborting freedoms with government sedation through such political harbingers’ protesting a butchered idea of progress. The prostitution of male and female as well become invisible under these ambiguous laws of anarchistic descent. They sell what godlike chemistry has given them to mine away into the depths of the night, and here resides the commodity on which the system has been posed to accept. Flesh is the presence into this real place, the slain are held with respect, and fortified with the government vitamin to have their cloned organs kept in check for pharming. The needs of the few far outweighed the needs of the many here as in almost every span of time as the culture melts away into a porous substance. The tears of the angels as the fires burn the lore of ages past to condemn a stupid race of indignant jackals, laughing cretins that came and went as they figured their chaos was not detrimental to their culture, and still the results pour forth from their leprous minds. Spirit of the leper maybe, that thing that grows forth and multiplies with more potency because of its meme habits, and it holds onto the mindlessness that culture evokes from the filthy humans residing and riding its shattered, shuttering waves of clarity.
Why drift when we can spit into the face of adversity? I’m bitter, but the drugs seem to deaden that spot within me that takes on a whimsical persona towards the masses. I sit in my booth, and I type away my grievances in a sedated haze, while nobody is looking. Not that my choices seem to greatly affect the said ‘masses’, but I am not reluctant to resist. Staring at the keyboard gets me nowhere these days. As useless as one might be drinking the nectar intoxicate, striving onward into the unknown goal of this reality, and I bite my tongue speaking truthfully. There was no way of broaching the topics easily, or with any flare of impertinent queasy thrills. The intoxicated polarity of well-meaning paces behind the route I was walking, following the aim at which others seem to slow, yet quickened into a thrilling experiment that draws the existing material closer to meet each in some doomed plane. Where these forces were the equivalent strength of that which can be called a material will, the cars dropped from the sky, but took too long to drive away. Even as the fuel flooded the street, a blood pact which had broken the day the wasted things began disappearing, and those taken for granted left in one gulp.
Haste through these treacherous territories was of the essence, though was not the future, and its decaying behavior lashed out to produce a rage-filled violent mood swing that affected the whole of civilization. The broken syringes were everywhere littered about, but without any of the dead junkies one might expect to see in a sea of dead flesh, as billions upon billions boiled upward into the sky. The massive stench and decay of human matter. God was gravity, and the lack of a primary source wasn’t that easy to explain at first, as fire rolled across us like a serpent from the sun. An idea labeled ‘just so’ that all things were constrained against it in some way. Whether moral comfortability or total dread were in order first was a display that tread the doorstep of my neighbor this day, and they did open that door so reluctantly. My first few steps after speaking to Ann allowed me to take in all I had missed being sober, the massive amounts of paraphernalia and drugs, and a lack of children running around and squealing was for the best I had figured out then. Protection of youth and all.
Ah, this was a sanctuary against the more frightening aspects of the outside mainstream, and I began taking off my coat before I even got remotely comfortable. As I began taking a seat, I noticed that I was taking off my shirt, and those first moments leaning back into the chair was heaven. This familiarity was amazing and perfect in the simplicity of the execution. The style was not my own, and that was the first measure of safety. The fact that I was not at my residence at all made me downright proud to be alive, and finally, my work was done for the day with happiness a stoned throw away. The room was hot, and Ben offered me a drink ten minutes after having arrived there. Ann was making some dope, and I trailed her every move with my eyes as Ben moved away. The atmosphere residing within this place was instantly comforting in its own right, and the floating scents of powerful incense was making me slightly drowsy then. My lids drooped closed for a moment, and suddenly Ben stood in front of me with a glass of water in his hand. I thanked him after he went to sit back down next to the stereo, his dreads were falling out of their net, and Ben was talking again of reggae and ska musics that he had recently discovered. He adjusted his hair as he put something into the air, slowly changing the volume level as the drums kicked in, and Ann began smiling as she finished up the solution.
Ann passed the dope over to Ben as I sat slouched in the chair, a soft and comfy thing that absorbed every part of me, and they were both talking at me about the new government regulations of the day. I smiled and nodded, but had no idea what exactly was going on in this interaction. The small talk would be condoned for the moment, and I threw in my own two cents about my gut pains as Ben was handing me the dope, I said thank you after finishing my wallowing. They both realized that I had not been over here in quite awhile, but they also knew of my solitary predicament, sometimes not being rather trustworthy in matters of timing. I took a hit of this dope, and my eyes widened, I could feel it immediately. For a moment I held my breath, but it was in exhaling that my vision blurred the tiniest bit. Like a wave of bubbles creeping across my spine, the excitement entered my body, and a new restless form of myself emerged right there on their floor. The alien retardation of my sober mind was drifting away, but I could still see Ben and Ann there, around me as I handed the dope back to Ann. The room had gone crazy, but my pores were not idle, as sweat began forming all along my spine and down my extremities. Every orifice was on edge then, and now, on into the infinite posture. I haven’t lost me yet, and that’s for the better right now. I don’t want to isolate from Ben and Ann, but I know they will merely think I am mad for the moment.
The moment grows longer as the shapes of Ben and Ann warp in front of me. Their sexual advances upon each other seems from a distance, hazy visions of them in mid-coitus while I sit there in a blank stare. The territory of imbeciles as the parading blankets of sight become fathomless glimpses into my own mind. The stark understanding of these individuals in front of me is dim under the glare of reeling from the dope as my friends fornicate in full view of my comatose body. Seeing it from above was comforting because of how numb my senses were, and I knew that sight wasn’t how I was viewing my body this way. I was feeling my way beyond the moments as they were slowing, and finally stopping for me. Total lack of sound, from subtly hearing Ann and Ben having sex into a reduction leading to nothing, and not even white noise or static fuzz in the background. It almost felt like what sleeping may have been if awareness remained intact underneath the heavy wall of unconsciousness. I could not tell if this was longer than I expected, or if I was just dead or something. I was definitely not inside of my body. I didn’t care where I was or who I was, but there I was floating in a hazy if fully awake state, wondering nothing but acknowledging that something was happening. All other senses warped or lazed around this odd tumult of feelings and emotions. I had no idea if it was a complete blackout, or if my body was still moving like I was conscious of it. However, nothing seemed amiss to me personally, and I could have accepted doomsday if it had occurred then. There was nothing unusual about these absences from my perspective, and there was nothing that I could do about it, I loved every tingling moment of it.
It was a jungle out there, and we were outgunned. All around lay obstacles to block our progress. Those foolish Botswana cock smugglers had gone too far this time, and there were only a few of us left to do something about it. It had taken months and months to allow ourselves to adapt to this fear-soaked hell, the jungle was now our ally in our quest to defeat these insurmountable odds, and our bravery shone like a badge made of blood-glistened gold. There were many things that we could do to capture the leader of these evil geniuses, their primitive ways mocking the raw intelligence in their eyes, and it was as though they only followed the witch doctor because it was easier to fall into line with tradition than rebel like the animals that they pretended to be. The leaves were shiny with blood of guerillas who claimed that any other people were impossible to deal with, and so took matters into their own hands, followed by their bullets and knives and clubs. The animal intent to survive was alive among them, and mocked all demeanor of intelligence that had evolved over too many eras of progress. The consequence of this modern age of waste was this bloody war, and the fear was drifting through the air, afflicting all those in the wake of these tribulations. The ground quaking as soldiers march onward toward the enemy, and the pulse quickens as the streaks from the sun heat the jungle floor around us.
The vines clung to the concrete outcroppings that grew out from the sidewalks, with their metal fire escapes wrapped in verdant green growth crawling through the former cities of progress, and the shadows of these many tall and angular ruins covered the landscape cutting the skyline in half. We tread lightly through this jungle scene with the guns in our hands, our cover would be blown if anyone saw us coming, but the united stealth allowed us to pass without a sound to distract the enemy. Walking into the heart of this shit-storm was an improbable mission, a foray into the pits of death itself, and there most certainly would be casualties as more than the heat would make us sweat going around this personal cataclysm. The one called Crenshaw stood as a guide in front of me with his bare chest heaving against the pressure of the alertness, with the automatic rifle in his hands, and he stopped quickly as he raised his hand up to halt the rest of us altogether. There were six of us then, not including Crenshaw and his infamous persona, but two of us were of native blood in rebellion with the growth of a new world. We had grown weary but resilient in the forest of their ancestors, wondering on so many different occasions what winning would be like, but to focused on survival for any consideration of a future. The time had passed like nothing, and sometimes I wept like a baby when I remembered my years as a civilian.
The wars had absorbed us all in the grip of uncertain fear tainted with the blood of nations in the past. A creeping option that would allow us to attach ourselves to pity or pain another as we see fit. I never thought that my life would be enveloped by these odds overwhelming me to conform beyond peaceful retaliation, and hatred for the other was a pennant and banner that many followed the leaders under. A colorful image that revealed with grimacing teeth what people could be possessed by other than their own wills to pursue the greatest end result for everyone else. The flags waved above our heads as we climbed the mountains of panic in our collective path, and we trudged miles beyond the capacity of any other men and women in the forgotten history of this unkempt plane. The grieving cries overshadowing the imperious resonance that afflicted the saints and the sinners alike as the quest grew thick to find a single truth unsullied by greed and regretted action. The women wept as we all walked past with our rifles in hand, and prepared for the next glimpse of an apocalypse to be. I was the only one really ready to see the torment in the eyes of the native forces, the white of their eyes revealed behind the shade of the setting sun that crept across the sky as shots rang out, and we threw ourselves to the ground by instinct. Whatever would we do with these people?
The bullets flew with a dread grace that caught our small forces off guard for only the moment as we recoiled like a group of trained professionals in the heat of battle at last, dropping to the jungle floor in haste with what needed to occur right now, but cover was only the first of the priority decisions to be made.
Eyl seemed the appropriate place for them to stew in their own juices, so-to-speak, but it was difficult to gauge properly since the disbanding of most naturally occurring pirate havens in the world by proclamation of their governments in control of the order as we knew it by then. The surging waves of people washing ashore within the vicinity of the brand new freedoms that we would all want to enjoy in some aspect or another. Everyone whose wishes were not that of the greater governing body were always subjected to mistreatment at the hands of supposed humane agendas. This has been the running theme for centuries since the world began spinning upon its hidden axis, swinging back and forth as the seas ebbed and flowed from one age to another, and the creatures on the surface were always warned to be kind to each other in one form or another. This hardly ever occurred within the boundaries of civilized membership, though, and few were confident enough to stand against the push and pull of public opinion.
A meaty, ochre island on the horizon revealed to me our destination on this rickety vessel taking us down the open waters, and a smile crossed my lips from side to side as I looked up to the setting sun in praise to god that we were going in the right direction.
As I walked out of the complex, where I live snug between other tenements, I began to gather my thoughts about the state of things. The government rules our lives like it always has, but something made me think everything was wrong, what they have always told me was annoying my sense of right. Effects like this should not be cumulative, but here we were, implanted in a society where corrupt was just another way of doing business. There are few things that cannot be tolerated here with an exception for the privileged masses, but procreation is one of those things, luckily for the friends who also liked to fuck like bunnies. Deviants of all behaviors were allowed to roam the streets with improbable intents, and with anxiety over the current state of things, the joys of sex were always quite far from my thoughts. Intercourse is understandable, but there are many authority-devised barriers when wishing to conceive or give birth to something new. Public bathroom stall filled with obnoxious scrawling as I tried to relieve some of my intestinal pain the natural way. Next to me, I could tell that two men were having rough anal sex, or so I would assume. Rough trade was allowed everywhere, this is what it means to refer to these freedoms, and with more of us becoming so claustrophobic as we are squeezed together around here.
The abortive wing of the government handles all national vasectomies, and the unwanted pregnancies are handled with the utmost professionalism, a clinical unity that has defined progress to the species beyond those most inhumane practices. Many facets including wars and strife in other images have been remodeled as well. I then hear the post-climax revelry of shooting some smack, as one of the boys leaves the next stall over, and I ponder this while smoking a cigarette in the middle of my stink. Smoking and drinking and drugging are greatly endorsed practices of population control by the masses, but unwarranted children are the bane of society seething beneath the surface of a respectable veneer, as the children still get out of control everywhere. However ridiculous it may seem it is all law now, and even the heroin homosexual next to me realizes what potential mess is being flushed through his system. Pushing the excremental bliss of ignorance captured in glimpses, and totalitarian rules bequeathed sane as rubbish in the bin. While devils run amok, and the tidbits of wisdom they assail us with is that extremity that the whole hinders itself with.
The louts and the fiends gather at the preconditioned moments created by this universal tension, aborting freedoms with government sedation through such political harbingers’ protesting a butchered idea of progress. The prostitution of male and female as well become invisible under these ambiguous laws of anarchistic descent. They sell what godlike chemistry has given them to mine away into the depths of the night, and here resides the commodity on which the system has been posed to accept. Flesh is the presence into this real place, the slain are held with respect, and fortified with the government vitamin to have their cloned organs kept in check for pharming. The needs of the few far outweighed the needs of the many here as in almost every span of time as the culture melts away into a porous substance. The tears of the angels as the fires burn the lore of ages past to condemn a stupid race of indignant jackals, laughing cretins that came and went as they figured their chaos was not detrimental to their culture, and still the results pour forth from their leprous minds. Spirit of the leper maybe, that thing that grows forth and multiplies with more potency because of its meme habits, and it holds onto the mindlessness that culture evokes from the filthy humans residing and riding its shattered, shuttering waves of clarity.
Why drift when we can spit into the face of adversity? I’m bitter, but the drugs seem to deaden that spot within me that takes on a whimsical persona towards the masses. I sit in my booth, and I type away my grievances in a sedated haze, while nobody is looking. Not that my choices seem to greatly affect the said ‘masses’, but I am not reluctant to resist. Staring at the keyboard gets me nowhere these days. As useless as one might be drinking the nectar intoxicate, striving onward into the unknown goal of this reality, and I bite my tongue speaking truthfully. There was no way of broaching the topics easily, or with any flare of impertinent queasy thrills. The intoxicated polarity of well-meaning paces behind the route I was walking, following the aim at which others seem to slow, yet quickened into a thrilling experiment that draws the existing material closer to meet each in some doomed plane. Where these forces were the equivalent strength of that which can be called a material will, the cars dropped from the sky, but took too long to drive away. Even as the fuel flooded the street, a blood pact which had broken the day the wasted things began disappearing, and those taken for granted left in one gulp.
Haste through these treacherous territories was of the essence, though was not the future, and its decaying behavior lashed out to produce a rage-filled violent mood swing that affected the whole of civilization. The broken syringes were everywhere littered about, but without any of the dead junkies one might expect to see in a sea of dead flesh, as billions upon billions boiled upward into the sky. The massive stench and decay of human matter. God was gravity, and the lack of a primary source wasn’t that easy to explain at first, as fire rolled across us like a serpent from the sun. An idea labeled ‘just so’ that all things were constrained against it in some way. Whether moral comfortability or total dread were in order first was a display that tread the doorstep of my neighbor this day, and they did open that door so reluctantly. My first few steps after speaking to Ann allowed me to take in all I had missed being sober, the massive amounts of paraphernalia and drugs, and a lack of children running around and squealing was for the best I had figured out then. Protection of youth and all.
Ah, this was a sanctuary against the more frightening aspects of the outside mainstream, and I began taking off my coat before I even got remotely comfortable. As I began taking a seat, I noticed that I was taking off my shirt, and those first moments leaning back into the chair was heaven. This familiarity was amazing and perfect in the simplicity of the execution. The style was not my own, and that was the first measure of safety. The fact that I was not at my residence at all made me downright proud to be alive, and finally, my work was done for the day with happiness a stoned throw away. The room was hot, and Ben offered me a drink ten minutes after having arrived there. Ann was making some dope, and I trailed her every move with my eyes as Ben moved away. The atmosphere residing within this place was instantly comforting in its own right, and the floating scents of powerful incense was making me slightly drowsy then. My lids drooped closed for a moment, and suddenly Ben stood in front of me with a glass of water in his hand. I thanked him after he went to sit back down next to the stereo, his dreads were falling out of their net, and Ben was talking again of reggae and ska musics that he had recently discovered. He adjusted his hair as he put something into the air, slowly changing the volume level as the drums kicked in, and Ann began smiling as she finished up the solution.
Ann passed the dope over to Ben as I sat slouched in the chair, a soft and comfy thing that absorbed every part of me, and they were both talking at me about the new government regulations of the day. I smiled and nodded, but had no idea what exactly was going on in this interaction. The small talk would be condoned for the moment, and I threw in my own two cents about my gut pains as Ben was handing me the dope, I said thank you after finishing my wallowing. They both realized that I had not been over here in quite awhile, but they also knew of my solitary predicament, sometimes not being rather trustworthy in matters of timing. I took a hit of this dope, and my eyes widened, I could feel it immediately. For a moment I held my breath, but it was in exhaling that my vision blurred the tiniest bit. Like a wave of bubbles creeping across my spine, the excitement entered my body, and a new restless form of myself emerged right there on their floor. The alien retardation of my sober mind was drifting away, but I could still see Ben and Ann there, around me as I handed the dope back to Ann. The room had gone crazy, but my pores were not idle, as sweat began forming all along my spine and down my extremities. Every orifice was on edge then, and now, on into the infinite posture. I haven’t lost me yet, and that’s for the better right now. I don’t want to isolate from Ben and Ann, but I know they will merely think I am mad for the moment.
The moment grows longer as the shapes of Ben and Ann warp in front of me. Their sexual advances upon each other seems from a distance, hazy visions of them in mid-coitus while I sit there in a blank stare. The territory of imbeciles as the parading blankets of sight become fathomless glimpses into my own mind. The stark understanding of these individuals in front of me is dim under the glare of reeling from the dope as my friends fornicate in full view of my comatose body. Seeing it from above was comforting because of how numb my senses were, and I knew that sight wasn’t how I was viewing my body this way. I was feeling my way beyond the moments as they were slowing, and finally stopping for me. Total lack of sound, from subtly hearing Ann and Ben having sex into a reduction leading to nothing, and not even white noise or static fuzz in the background. It almost felt like what sleeping may have been if awareness remained intact underneath the heavy wall of unconsciousness. I could not tell if this was longer than I expected, or if I was just dead or something. I was definitely not inside of my body. I didn’t care where I was or who I was, but there I was floating in a hazy if fully awake state, wondering nothing but acknowledging that something was happening. All other senses warped or lazed around this odd tumult of feelings and emotions. I had no idea if it was a complete blackout, or if my body was still moving like I was conscious of it. However, nothing seemed amiss to me personally, and I could have accepted doomsday if it had occurred then. There was nothing unusual about these absences from my perspective, and there was nothing that I could do about it, I loved every tingling moment of it.
It was a jungle out there, and we were outgunned. All around lay obstacles to block our progress. Those foolish Botswana cock smugglers had gone too far this time, and there were only a few of us left to do something about it. It had taken months and months to allow ourselves to adapt to this fear-soaked hell, the jungle was now our ally in our quest to defeat these insurmountable odds, and our bravery shone like a badge made of blood-glistened gold. There were many things that we could do to capture the leader of these evil geniuses, their primitive ways mocking the raw intelligence in their eyes, and it was as though they only followed the witch doctor because it was easier to fall into line with tradition than rebel like the animals that they pretended to be. The leaves were shiny with blood of guerillas who claimed that any other people were impossible to deal with, and so took matters into their own hands, followed by their bullets and knives and clubs. The animal intent to survive was alive among them, and mocked all demeanor of intelligence that had evolved over too many eras of progress. The consequence of this modern age of waste was this bloody war, and the fear was drifting through the air, afflicting all those in the wake of these tribulations. The ground quaking as soldiers march onward toward the enemy, and the pulse quickens as the streaks from the sun heat the jungle floor around us.
The vines clung to the concrete outcroppings that grew out from the sidewalks, with their metal fire escapes wrapped in verdant green growth crawling through the former cities of progress, and the shadows of these many tall and angular ruins covered the landscape cutting the skyline in half. We tread lightly through this jungle scene with the guns in our hands, our cover would be blown if anyone saw us coming, but the united stealth allowed us to pass without a sound to distract the enemy. Walking into the heart of this shit-storm was an improbable mission, a foray into the pits of death itself, and there most certainly would be casualties as more than the heat would make us sweat going around this personal cataclysm. The one called Crenshaw stood as a guide in front of me with his bare chest heaving against the pressure of the alertness, with the automatic rifle in his hands, and he stopped quickly as he raised his hand up to halt the rest of us altogether. There were six of us then, not including Crenshaw and his infamous persona, but two of us were of native blood in rebellion with the growth of a new world. We had grown weary but resilient in the forest of their ancestors, wondering on so many different occasions what winning would be like, but to focused on survival for any consideration of a future. The time had passed like nothing, and sometimes I wept like a baby when I remembered my years as a civilian.
The wars had absorbed us all in the grip of uncertain fear tainted with the blood of nations in the past. A creeping option that would allow us to attach ourselves to pity or pain another as we see fit. I never thought that my life would be enveloped by these odds overwhelming me to conform beyond peaceful retaliation, and hatred for the other was a pennant and banner that many followed the leaders under. A colorful image that revealed with grimacing teeth what people could be possessed by other than their own wills to pursue the greatest end result for everyone else. The flags waved above our heads as we climbed the mountains of panic in our collective path, and we trudged miles beyond the capacity of any other men and women in the forgotten history of this unkempt plane. The grieving cries overshadowing the imperious resonance that afflicted the saints and the sinners alike as the quest grew thick to find a single truth unsullied by greed and regretted action. The women wept as we all walked past with our rifles in hand, and prepared for the next glimpse of an apocalypse to be. I was the only one really ready to see the torment in the eyes of the native forces, the white of their eyes revealed behind the shade of the setting sun that crept across the sky as shots rang out, and we threw ourselves to the ground by instinct. Whatever would we do with these people?
The bullets flew with a dread grace that caught our small forces off guard for only the moment as we recoiled like a group of trained professionals in the heat of battle at last, dropping to the jungle floor in haste with what needed to occur right now, but cover was only the first of the priority decisions to be made.
Eyl seemed the appropriate place for them to stew in their own juices, so-to-speak, but it was difficult to gauge properly since the disbanding of most naturally occurring pirate havens in the world by proclamation of their governments in control of the order as we knew it by then. The surging waves of people washing ashore within the vicinity of the brand new freedoms that we would all want to enjoy in some aspect or another. Everyone whose wishes were not that of the greater governing body were always subjected to mistreatment at the hands of supposed humane agendas. This has been the running theme for centuries since the world began spinning upon its hidden axis, swinging back and forth as the seas ebbed and flowed from one age to another, and the creatures on the surface were always warned to be kind to each other in one form or another. This hardly ever occurred within the boundaries of civilized membership, though, and few were confident enough to stand against the push and pull of public opinion.
A meaty, ochre island on the horizon revealed to me our destination on this rickety vessel taking us down the open waters, and a smile crossed my lips from side to side as I looked up to the setting sun in praise to god that we were going in the right direction.
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