#RyanBaxterOriginal

82 posts
  • sour_cherry 25w

    I'd love to see the circus going on in your brain, deciding which face to wear today.

  • sour_cherry 34w

    The car crash of energy between us combined together like two streams of running paint, oozing intensity and vivid colour.

  • sour_cherry 37w

    I always wanted to win one of those giant stuffed monkeys at the carnival.

  • sour_cherry 37w

    Noir '55

    George lent back into the thick wooden chair, taking in a deep breath as he glanced down at the river. The cigarette smoke circled around the cards, seductively caressing the red and black symbols as if to tease a lover. The smoke floated over to the high stack of coloured chips, a promising reward if one could handle such a night of passion. The vinyl scratched at the needle as the sounds of Jonny Hartman complimented the dancing sensation of the smoke, swaying like the hips of Lizbeth Scott. George imagined himself approaching the smoke skinned woman, it would be in a classy joint, not like the place he found himself in. He'd give a subtle nod to the live band, who'd play a song just for his arrival. Amaretto Sour would be his order, she'd be intrigued by this yet pretend she hadn't noticed but George knew, he always knew who was watching him. The ever observant kind. Of course, he'd let other men give their sly lines and have the bartender send drinks her way. She'd take them, not out of politeness but out of thirst. She would eventually approach him, furious he hadn't at least given her the eye. She would think he thought her disgusting, unattractive...boring.

    “Your skin carries an essence of smoke to it,” George would say, without making eye contact. “You know what they say about smoke, without it, there'd be no fire. Where's the fire hiding sweetheart?”

  • sour_cherry 37w

    Just show some solidity.

  • sour_cherry 37w

    Solice now comes in three flavours.

    Bottom of the bottle, funky syringe and loan shark's wet dream.

  • sour_cherry 38w

    I need a plate of bacon and eggs, a cheap coffee and the taste of you to get through the night.

  • sour_cherry 38w

    Coca Cola Lola

    "Hey stud, how much for one of those coke cans? Not the small ones, I want one of those bigger, red ones" said Lola, flicking her jet black hair back from across her face. The cashier wasn't to be fooled, he'd be told of the trick that the infamous Coca Cola Lola used to get what she wanted. "There's nothing to worry about sugar, Lola took her tablets, everything's gonna be just fine" said Lola, curving her ruby red lips around her teeth. If memory served the cashier correctly, and if often did, he was told Lola was allergic to the high fructose corn syrup and after the last incident, Lola was strictly banned from purchasing fizzy drinks.

    "C'mon baby, you don't wanna make poor Lola cry do ya?" moaned Lola, lowering her lemon yellow sunglasses from her eyes to her nose. The cashier, although incredibly attracted to Lola, thought her tactics were nothing short of filthy and didn't want to lose his new job to the simple wants of a girl. "I can see you fighting with yourself over there honey, you don't wanna disappoint Lola do ya?" said Lola, swaying her milky white dress from side to side.

    "I'm sorry Lola, don't pretend you don't know the rules" muttered the cashier, clearly disappointed with himself. Lola, realising this was going to take a little more effort, began walking towards the cashier, her electric pink sandals squelching against the floor. "Listen tiger, hand over a Coca Cola and Lola will pay you with a little kiss" whispered Lola.

    The cashier, unable to resist Lola's charm, takes a large cola from the fridge and hands it over. "Close your eyes sweet thing, your whole world is about to explode" whispered Lola as she watched the cashier close his eyes.

    Then like a lightening bolt, Lola burst out the front door, clutching her Coca Cola as her victory spoils.

  • sour_cherry 38w

    It's time to start making waves again.

  • sour_cherry 38w

    Purgatory is driving through a foggy countryside.

    Saint Paul is a toll bridge operator.

    I haven't met God yet but I'll let you know.

  • sour_cherry 38w

    an hour of a day in the life of little timmy

    Timmy sucked at football. I mean we all suck at sports when we're aged six but Timmy really did suck.

    Anyways it's the biggest game of the under 7's season. It's the Elswick Eagles against the Kirkham Kings. The game remains goalless and time finally approaches the last minute.

    Now all kids have to play to make it fair so the strangely strict coach brings on Timmy. The other kids and even the parents moan under their breath.

    The coach pushes everyone forward and the ball drops to Timmy, who is immediately tackled from behind and is awarded a penalty.

    However in these rules, whoever gets tackled must take the penalty. So Timmy steps up, ready to shake off all the doubt people held over him for so long. And misses. By a mile. The ball is pretty much in space. NASA think it's a freaking UFO.

    Timmy still got a participation award.

  • sour_cherry 38w

    Her chaotic elegance shone with such vibrancy. Her perfection tormented me, for I knew there would never be anything so natural again.

  • sour_cherry 38w

    Rebuild your model.

  • sour_cherry 39w

    True Story Time

    Today I went to the bank and took out over a thousand in cash.

    I only gave a homeless woman the loose change in my pocket.

  • sour_cherry 39w

    Day One

    Press Start to Begin

  • sour_cherry 39w

    It's been a bad day.

    Rejection doesn't come harder than being told you're unoriginal.

  • sour_cherry 39w

    I'm often told I'm not descriptive enough.

  • sour_cherry 39w

    Three Words

    I'm not sorry
    Is that it
    It feels right
    I love you
    You need more
    Why would you
    Why should you
    Leave me alone

  • sour_cherry 39w

    I shaved my head in the name of art

  • sour_cherry 39w

    Valentines Day Massacre

    It's easy to think Harold was innocent, after all the charity work and all. He even organised the local blood drive three years running! Always a top bloke in the boozer, buying pints when the lads canny afford any more.

    So it came to my surprise when he butchered his wife with a carving knife and promised his soul to Satan.

    You really think you know a guy.