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Stray’s (another Cat Tail)
Cat’s eye’s sank heavy into his skull as the dying sun dropped slowly beneath the cool steel ocean. “Happy Birthday! How do you feel?” She asked with that beautiful blend of naivete and sexual cunning. “Are you enjoying this at all?” Typical Ed, constantly worrying about how he looks. Cat turned to her and stared back into her bright gleaming eyes, expectant of some happy comment; reading the blank visage of his feline face. “It’s nice,” he breathed out, “It’s really nice.” The pain of his guilt weighing endlessly on his very soul. Ed would only know half of his pain, only able to read so many chapters of his book, but there was still something about her that tormented and crushed his very being–innocence. Something that she took from him, cat’s never are fond of people who take things away but they’re also never mean enough to attack someone with good petting hands. ‘I want to rip you a part and beat that love you have for me out of you’ thought Cat, 'I’m undeserving of this affection and just miserable enough to hunger for it; stop this please.’ All this and more played in his yarn ball brain but all that could be spoken was, “Thanks, this is really great.” The muddled taste of salt, sand, and Indian food did little more than distract them long enough to retreat into their own minds. Cat running endlessly in circles about the implications of all this and the desire to feel that tenderness once more; Ed,… who knows, as much as Cat wanted the subtext to be spoken, to talk straight with her for one brief second, to open those doors again for both of them to walk through, all was kept at bay by the dam of smiles and sad loving eyes. The dividing rift getting bigger and wider in both hearts. The chill of the ocean and the disapperence of the gulls triggered both animals to seek warmer lodging, it is winter after all, so both creatures cast their sleepy thoughtful gaze onto the warm orange lights of the Venitian city wineries. Coo’s and Caws traveled up the street to meet their tranquil ears grounding them back to the zoo of the city. 'I want to grab you by the hand and run but all I seem to do is keep tugging at your ghost;’ Thought Cat.
#80s #80snoir #nofilter look the fuck up
The Hollywood walk of fame keeps you looking at the stars at the ground cause they’re afraid if you look up, you’ll rise above them.
It’s Xavier’s birthday! He should look like this after a bottle of diesel fuel. 💫✨🔮👻🎉🚬💮💀♉️
#nofilter #80snoir #80s look the fuck up
The Magic Shop is Closed
There wasn’t a place in town that you didn’t see a Barnes or Cathy parading about or at work. She was a stunning creature, hair as gold as the coasts of California some would say as they passed through, that soft and eager look of a young woman just growing into herself like a young colt or calf, her long limbs and supple frame began to take on an elegance where early childhood was littered with bruises and scraped knees. A real charmer and quick in the head, she’d been bred to be this towns queen bee and like all children groomed to be their parents pride in wake of their own failure, she was a sad and mysterious young flower that seemed to bloom only at night or when talking about the magic shop. Cathy never knew the other boys in town had secretly chased her down at every turn trying to open those jasmine petals of hers, but sunlight can’t do what the moon was made for and she and I seemed to make head way were the rest of the school stumbled and faltered. In those days we’d walk through the park at twilight and find ourselves at the magic shop by dusk. The warm purple gold sky setting behind dark mountains and long vistas of the endless fields and river streams; Cathy really glowed in that soft light of day’s goodbye and night’s soft hello.
Familiarity
It’s like a long forgotten house too remarkable to truly die. The people have all moved away but their faces have stained the burnt walls and peeling paint. New minds and souls now wander these decaying walls with some similarity to what was once proud and majestic. I look upon them and recognize none, only to continue and turn when one blank face echoes the voice of one I knew before. In a house once brimming with life I hear nothing but echoes of the past and continually fear the present tenants. It’s evolution I guess, I the forgotten fossil wants what can never be–familiarity. It’s a numbers game in the end, the fast times of an even faster world, I tried to speed up and only found myself exhausted and winded. I’ll always pass this house, it’s too much a part of my walk but I’ll never recognize the place.
Coby Whitmore http://flic.kr/p/saGBVp
And so we blend into the scene as we look upon the spectacle…how little they realize.