Drew Bone's portfolio

Like a freight train on a lazy Sunday, demolishing everything in sight, can't stand this city living. All these bodies, no longer human, moving to and fro in their wrapped up world. Like it fucking matters. You make however many million, spend it on shit, a new car, bigger pool. Do you think of those who have none, and if you do; what do you think? Do you see yourself as better than them? Do you pity the proles who live beneath you? The only reason you could be seen as better is in the eyes of this fucked up society you build up on a daily basis. Why not live for life, for the exploration of your mind and soul, rather than fuck up the world, our world, our home. Humanity is not infinite. Far from it, we lead a very finite exi...

I once heard that pearl divers use olive oil, poured onto a turbulent water surface it creates a patch of calm, a window to what lies beneath. If only such a thing existed for the human brain, a wonder solution to calm my troubled thoughts. What an escape, to be able to dive down, down into the pressing water. Eyes shut, ears rushing from the pressure all around. Sweeping faster through the void, arms pulling in powerful strokes, feeling the temperature change, the cold deepening with the blue of the water. Lungs aching now, it feels good, the slow burn of holding in breath beyond the norm, legs kicking towards the surface. Bursting suddenly into the fresh air, eyes blinking in the startling light. True freedom in the water. ...

Tear it down. Begin again. Does anyone care? The apocalypse could be nigh and facebook would be flooded with updates. No one reaching out, finding the ones they love for that final embrace, that last magic spark as flesh meets flesh. Just a generation, nay population, of blinkered sheep, bleating and twittering about what they wish they'd done. Well wake the fuck up and do it. Do it today, because tomorrow never comes, and yesterday was wasted. I have the same dream nightly, a world devoid of humans, no concrete abominations. Just nature and all its beautiful mystery just left to happen. Ice caves left to grow, great caverns of glistening crystalline frost. Huge rivers and underground water ways. Nature returning to balanc...

…if there does happen to be a zombie uprising one day we here in the UK are at a major disadvantage to the US.  For starters there are significantly less gun owners over here, and unlike in the US we couldn’t just nip to a Wallmart and loot ourselves some if there was a zombie apocalypse.  Say what you like about the US and their gun laws, they would help out against the undead.  I don’t think there’s even that many fire axes dotted about like you see in the movies, all we have are those tiny little hammer things for smashing the windows on trains.  Although it does all depend on what kind of zombies we’re dealing with.  If its the old school, slow as hell, low moaning kind then in reality someone with a good bit of sense should do OK.  ...

No more. No more fighting. No more bodies. Evil has had its fill.  The graves are full of long dead men, brave souls who gave their life. When the last shot has rung, clear and sharp across the land, who will remain? The champion, the winner, the last man standing.  What then?  A lonely life in victory. Do you understand the cause for which you fought, for which you killed.  Your soul was sold, beneath its worth, stolen from within you. Thou shalt not kill. Unless they disagree, then they must go, their crime to not believe. How can war be holy? Yet religion and war go hand in hand, two most unlikely comrades. Indeed, what would Jesus do?

I stand atop this pinnacle of stone as all I know floats in a rising tide around me, rising higher, once forgotten memories pushed far to the bottom of my soul now raised like some monster shipwreck, bobbing in the rising swells of my mind. The distant glow of what the world used to mean sputters like a dying flame in the winds of oblivion. All you hold dear will crumble, shatter in a rain around you, a mess of worn out party fiends, no momentum left now, you reap what you sow. A generation of mess-heads always eager for the next fix but oh so reluctant to pay with anything but their souls, sold to the neon gods for the highest bid, the promise of a better night and a darker tomorrow. The shattered dreams of a thousand drunken d...

How long, how long. Symphonies of thoughts crashing like a thousand waves, inside my skull, and I hear them scream behind my eyes. Longing for freedom, to spring destruction where they lay. My words will not inspire. I have no greater cause, no drive or dreams. I wear a blindfold of my own design, a handmade pair of rose glasses. I turn my tired eyes towards the sun, to burn away the image of this wretched world. I want to scream and smash and destroy, until nothing remains but my echo, cursing the stars for being so pure. Such reckless abandon cannot be sustained, how long before the elaborate farce is revealed, before my tongue cannot be held. My words will only divide.