Monday, 14 February 2011

Papercut. Chapter 28

I smile at that proudly, grabbing my jacket, wrapping my scarf tighter and heading outside. I didn’t see her, I didn’t feel her slap me, I didn’t see her silhouette in the distance. I didn’t see any posters, complaints from her friend, neighbors or even plain supporters.

Then as we sit on our seats, I lean and kiss Alice on the cheeks, stroking her hair as she smiles clearly embarrassed with herself on not reacting to my kiss by pulling me into one. The feeling of guilt is present when there is no other feeling, it's the blindfold where you imagine someone else rather than the tongue which licks you constantly, the body pressed above with the handcuffs, so why don't you just rip it, smear the snot and fuck yourself? Oh, the vanity. I kiss her cheek once more and turn myself to the movie’s credits showing fake fascination towards it, clouding my thoughts of Kayleen’s and my ego’s possible and close relation to my roommate.

Basically the thing was absolutely nothing special. The main characters got together in the end after having a on and off relationship with banal references to Romeo and Juliet, as if it's the only ever created love story, but them we all die just some have more sexual encounters, some have no contact at all.

I wonder how it truly is, if you just met once and that's it. What would you feel? Would you even feel it all? After meeting Lola, I kind of stopped believing in being forever alone.

But then isn’t our life a big fat on and off deja vu, when you kiss the same, hands do the same pattern and the feeling repeats like a broken vinyl until it shatters in nude hands?

I have no Freddy which spanks kids with his sexy claws, so I can't pull her close, pull her on top, go under her shirt in a kiss, pull on the blindfold, one on each or one, big blindfold, as Lola would rub the fabric on my knee.

A threesome.


It's free and then, she'd yank it off, grinning madly, taking my face in her hands, grinning, pressing her lips against my own, Kayleen forgotten, the skin, now exposed, familiar, as I'd kiss it, the blanket now off, exposing the long dry virgin blood, no suicide after an intercourse.

The girl the angel, which takes her position, literally too far, just because everything can be erased, her thoughts and beliefs naive. The cross as if it can be bent with the future.

The thing, which I didn’t expect much, was that, Alice actually liked it.

We walk on slowly, talking about the art classes, what I most likely was supposed to give them in a few weeks time, was that it, was that the only topic we'd held, no suicide theories, no madly grinning and singing random songs, accusing the stereotypes, as blonde hair would get in my eyes, blinding, like a razor.


You're supposed to miss, like waiting for an exhibitionist to expose her body and then you can let your hands wonder to touch and receive pleasure from a kiss.

I believe that even that was for the better, as it was time to depart.

I could see what she was expecting.

I had two scenes in my mind, an alternate matching with the current setting session like the one I had in my day yesterday and then I have Lola standing there looking curiously. Was she real, standing there, a lollipop in mouth, skirt held close to her legs, wrapping them, eyes covered by hair as she raises and I see them and I grin, I want to walk uo and hold her hands, lean it, dyed and real.

Then I lean in, holding my breath, thinking, if I am going too fast, if I lie too fast.

Just one second and she would close the gap, but I move back, brushing a loose steak of her hair back into place,

it's hesitation,

I hold.

Maybe I want something not as banal, since I had seen the after-sucky-movie kiss quite a lot and all of a sudden, I didn’t want anything to repeat with Alice. I wanted no deja vu, I wanted her lips to be there but no replacing the laughing blonde in my mind and the one which was pulling my black jacket off my shoulders, her fingers brushing against the back of my neck.

Hey, Lola.

I kiss her, her tongue familiar.

Am I kissing air, brushing my mouth against hers, her body now attached to mine, as I bring her closer, head sideways, as I can't stop, the kiss, the kiss, the kiss. Let everyone flood inside my head, let me take over, let me pin you to the ground, let me roll over, let me just take you above once more, so that you'd reach the sky and hold it, as I'd crawl back into your arms, please let me welcome you.

As if I was bored with everything that happened before in my life, as if I want to rub it off, but then I can’t say that I didn't do that. I just wanted something new, something fresh as if I was bored and I was due to the endless references in my earlier teenage years to other lives, that I should stop thinking about the blonde, but then

I was going to 20 in spring, wasn’t I?


Twen-ty. Roman was going to be twen-ty. I want to taste it on my tongue, but it would seem amazingly stupid as I had once been a sixteen year old, seventeen to be, as I found out earlier, wishing for me to break the barrier and then the taste had been more intense and shared. Should you share everything with a beloved?


I’m not making my life, banal, I’m just adding fireworks. Fuck ups. I lean in, to be stopped by a sudden hair ruffle.

“Roooome!” I glare at the culprit, to see two rather familiar faces.

“Melvin?” I say dumbly staring at his light blue hoodie showing from his jacket. He grins widely, throwing his arms around me in a tight hug. He is ruining my Romeo moment, so please, fuck off, and romantic balcony scene, if your evening started with Romeo and Juliet references then it shall end with it, amen.

Then, like in a final scene I see a familiar red head in the distance feeling a familiar and rather known to me tingle in the left arm, coming from my other self, who is now surely wanking.

The thing is that the process is rather dodgy, as well, when I feel it take over. It feels weird, like a mental breakdown, all characteristics leading to schizophrenia. I feel several mumbles, maybe waking up phrases talking to me in my head, shouting, something that I don’t understand. I feel a grip upon my throat, whispers licking my ear as he it echoes as a shout in my head. The tingle rises slowly over the arm, taking everything it the process, the arm, the shoulder, the torso, it catches the lower end of my body, but standing firmly on my legs, as it travels upper taking from where it came from my brain.

Soon enough the shout pierces my ears, twice the needle goes in and out, that I don’t hear anything as the vision turns blurry, then once it reaches the head, sticky fingers slide in the skin, the skull gone, taken out, Lola holding it, biting a chunk, it tastes like a green apple, hallucination, I feel it crack open, as if he crawls through, his eyes showing an amber shade in them, Lola takes his hands and pulls him out, the liquid out of his mouth washing him, giving him an appearance, acid eating his feathers on the head. The split bloke is beside me, takes my waist, slides under my jacket, fingertips, so cold, lips against my cheek, tongue slides in the open mouth, not touching and out, the air mocked. He covers my eyes, my mouth and drenches me in it… My cheek kissed.

It feels like a nightmare cracking through as several past actions, he slips through my mind into the open, telling him the past and from what he should take on. Maybe it’s like a kiss of death, so numb, that my body brakes, which ends with awakening and returns soon enough. But in reality I feel rather numb enough to remember and describe it sanely. It feels like you also get given somebody else’s memories, just for one second and then you collapse, you're there, a quick exchange of lips. I get a quick flashback of what he did the previous time, but like a dream, I wake up and know nothing besides the sweat in hand, a chocolate visit, the waffle house attacked and the muffin man left as a treat, desert.

But then isn’t that a good thing?

Forgetting your mistakes. Didn’t we ever wish that even once in a lifetime? And by the looks of it that is the only calming thought, as I take over, I can forget and blame myself.

And what terrifies me is that I let him forget myself.


Happy Valentine's Day!!!

The whole concept or rather the minor plots are changing, as I edit such as the relation between Roman/Norman and female characters, while the bond between Lola and Roman is now heavily built and strong.

Chapter 29

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