Sunday, 23 January 2011

Papercut. Chapter 25

I stare dumbly into the mirror, my reflection, as I cut my cheek with a razor, my hair all there, as I am clean shaved, as I see my teeth stick out where my cheek should be. I cut a square out of my flesh.

Can I call it a heart and give it to you?

Because I am too vain, to give my life for yours.

A bitter taste stuck in my tongue. I wanted it to wear off, like never. I opened my eyes to see buildings pass, to see streets pass, as I feel numbness, hit me with ease, as it strokes my cheek, it's invisibility in front of me. Can I tear myself? The scarf is wrapped around my neck. Macy's legs around my neck, as she laughs slightly, eyes locked on Devyn's. I could see her fingers trail past my jaw line, pulling me closer into a kiss, a past I once gave to have her lick it off, sitting in front of me, naked and licking it until a mere wooden stick was left, which she bites in half.

When you're not to be like that, you don't want it, you get it in your throat and you swallow the black thing.

I never wanted to scowl on some dreadful girlfriend, like Roman did, as he held her like some golden belief.

And here I was.

“Roman, you ok?” A flash of red hair stands above me, her hands on her knees, her voice heard from above like an angel, but I see deep green instead of light blue. I see dark hair instead of scarlet. I look above her realization a flashlight into my hair, I pull her close to me with one Converse off and the other tied tightly. I have been here forever.

I blink in confusion, seeing her appear in that short skirt now Macy's Kayleen in a wig, a cig between her lips, as I want her to choke, just for her to close the eyes.

She was the only one who called me differently, who actually tried to cope with me unlike Lola who seemed disgusted by the fact that I existed.

Exile the soul.


Now I calmed myself like Roman.

Maybe because I was me, once, was I Roman?

Had I merely lost control, that I tell myself that I am watching from inside as the dream goes on?

"I met Macy today." I tell Kayleen, as she sits in the chair, a pair of fake glasses jumping off her nose.

"Oh really?" She asks, nose in the book, as the letters scatter and I want to touch her, kiss her neck, lick it, press her against me, as she'd tell me and I'd listen what happened to me, because she saw it all, but not now, so I hold her eyes closed, lean lower and tell her.

“I met my ex today.” Does she hold jealousy in a jar? Release it, love. I want to breathe it, I want to know you care, because I follow the book, because when I didn't, nothing went right. Then I watch her carefully, trying to find the lightest reaction but the second I could have caught it would be gone by my sudden attraction to my shoelace, which just winked at me.

But then isn’t that wonderful that we blur out things in an unprepared moment, just like that? Isn’t the surprise a gift? That sudden pull in you, as you breathe in water and you suffocate, as water is replaced by something everyone exhales, fragments of a lost life.

"Smoke. Brilliant. Macy." I can't say anything, as they shatter and I wonder what's stopping Kayleen.

“She still smokes, well, she always did. Looks brilliant, actually. But I guess time passed, so basically… ah, screw it.” She looks at me, the meat of gossip, get the fork and sink it in my stomach, as I mention Macy's engagement as she did it all over, the veil upon her face soon to be for the mockery, to cut herself open, to show how much can a suicide and a stolen pearl be the culprit of the rotten insides.

“24?” She asks wondering, Macy's age upon the walls, tear it off, bite it off, lick it off, be with me, Macy, stop stop stop stop stop it, I chant as I were the five years.

"The scarf was given by Macy, not Lola." I say, but then I look at Kayleen, who has been told the opposite by Roman, even if she plays the role of both.

I see him pressing his slim body against the wall I cannot see.

I pin him against the wall, eyes locked, as I feel my own turning olive, as we stare, we've never been this close, a breath shared, as I wonder what should we do, as I am the one pinned by my own vessel, seeing Kayleen watch us amazed, like a TV show with no talk show host, just the guest stars. She sits down picking up a big bowl of popcorn. She chews it slightly as her eyes light up as kid yells at me, grabbing me by the scarf, an identical of what he wears.

He can't scream, it's like masturbation, only it hurts.

“He had a lover, Rome.” I see Melvin pop up, an arm around Jill’s shoulders and then he grabs her chin crashing his lips against the blonde’s.

You cheated on Lola?





I raise my head to see the streets passing by. I was dreaming. I never told her anything, nothing about my ex and let it be like that. I want to let that memory form me but not my future relationships, enough. Then, I chew on the tip, desperate to light it but not pay anything for smoking in public areas. I look down, observing, noticing, staring at people pass by, stop, go inside the bus. All so unfamiliar, all so un noticeable, all unwanted for me.

Then my eyes stop on a blonde haired girl, as she looks up, one fingers pressed against her bottom lip.

Once the past explodes on you, everything will, as it falls in chunks which you have to pick up for money and chew until you immerse into the plasticine you created, love.


Lola is here.


It’s more like a petal between the lips, the rest of the flower falling, its petal’s scatterings picked up, as it is thrown on the street with no lights, just the feet glow.

I look down trying to realize how I’m I here.

Am I the petal in the mouth, which hangs upon the sky?

Am I the nude flower without petals?

Am I the scattered petals? All of them symbolizing me. But then wouldn’t there be just two petals then? Twin ones, corrupted by nature, having one end instead of two, glued together, one gasping the lack of water the other feeding off like a parasite.

I look up and see the girl with her doll big eyes, her lips a cherry rose, pale skin, dark hair falling on her cheeks. Needle her face, as her cheeks should be

My cheek.

Then I realize that I won’t deal with a triple personality and turn my head around searching for Roman, Norman.

Who I’m I?

I mouth that to the girl, as she nods towards her eyes which reflect.

I see nothing.

Chapter 26

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