Voices.
Some sick tune destroying my mood, taking out the tongue and pouring syrup on it, as I try to reflect a scene in front with a girl smoking a cigarette and a balcony, like a house of cards with one single move causing the air to shiver and the building to tremble, shatter into a pile, the oxygen is the house and the lips are among the nude houses.
Let's ride a horse. I want to bite it's neck, as confetti will pour out and I'll use ink to cover my bodies.
I press myself into the pillow not finding a known strawberry scent.
How cheap was that?
Always comparing a girl’s scent, taste to berries?
As if you can actually lick the sticker off, a body, just sexual attraction, the cock thanks for me, a myth naively held by betrayed women.
Lola tasted like mint.
I swallow, imagining the taste I was longing for, I want to wrap it up.
Or maybe I wasn’t?
I could hear a door shut with a light bang. I could see her breathing heavily, clutching the fabric of her shirt, as she slips onto the floor, wash it all off, her breath a scream. Kayleen’s light blue eyes are never raised, to catch me peeking, spying, stalking her like a peeping Thomas, but then I wasn't the interested one. Only there was no wooden wall, I'm not digging my nails into the wood trying to catch at least a small glimpse to satisfy my imagination. She raised her palm to her forehead, brushing off her steaks, poking her Converse, as I'd return under the covers, the tears now holding another meaning maybe with both hands tied and no one would care, nor me nor Roman, trying to calm down.
There was something about her, sitting there like a doll, only there were topics to be held, even if I pictured her differently, just that the other self, what about him, one strap falling down, as she lets it brush her shoulder, as her eyes are bursting from confusion. The red head turns her head away, letting her palm press against her mouth muffling her ongoing ranting as if she were the one to speak with the mouth open, the tension and desire plastered, letting herself swallow them, letting them rip her from inside.
What did it feel when you were torn even with a previous affection? I wondered where would I be with the beloved second part of mine, what if your split-personality was your soul mate?
She rubs her face with the same hand, the other resting on her knee, relaxing while the other had the task to relax her.
Is she crying?
She isn't.
I want her to cry in my arms, I want to stroke her, as my hair colour would change from one to another, as I'd hold a few pearls in my hands, maybe her hair would go black, natural, some previous lover.
But then I want her to, not understanding whose idea it was to press the lips against her cheeks, feeling the salty taste, as I'd lick it off, holding her eyes and leaning in to forget how it'd feel.
I could hear a snore, maybe he was asleep or faking it while whispering nonsense into my ear. Maybe he was the culprit here, as I felt my legs take me further, further downstairs to show myself under the dim corridor lamp under several hats triggering paper and sketches to stand on tiptoes and bite, which was the only one lit, giving the room a spooky state most likely to all of the dark curtains pulled shut, eating away the light. She raises her head, her emotions as if she had been crying but no evidence is held or shown.
And the fear of acceptance is on a chain. As the thoughts fiddle and turn, fucking each other, as if it were something else to do.
Kayleen should be there, have something in her name for me to want her, for us to want her up to the point that I'd press her against the wall, biting her lips, my hands raising her t-shirt and not expecting Lola underneath or in the threesome. I'd cheat on them, I'd make them cheat in front.
Kayleen. I want to pronounce her name, as I'd feel a different tingle take over my body, eating me fully. It feels cheesy. It feels not right. I should be in my bed, forcing myself to sleep under the imagination of Lola’s scent. That’s it. I should think about my next move on Alice, but nothing. But then isn’t it what it always starts from? An unknown mix of emotions, adrenaline, the mind completely blank, no exact tune in the head, screaming out phrases urging you to stop it by one single action.
One mere action. One step and one fling. One big flirt.
“Roman? I w-"
I shut her up by pinning myself against her, I feel her excited, there is the reflection of the sexy confusion I feel, in her eyes I feel my breathing go faster as her face in inches from mine, still not blurring out the vision. I could see myself stroking her hair, the red slipping in my fingers, colouring, her hair flowing as her eyelashes and slightly opened lips, pornography, let me takes pictures, let me draw you as I feel my hands going down and it's heated up there as I lean in, brush my lips near her own, pull, feeling her lips mouth silent words as I mouth my own, pray.
Kayleen looks up at me, I feel high and then we just look at eachother, my hand goes upper and when she closes her eyes I go for it, my lips press a pattern against hers before I feel her mouth softness exposed, as I stroke her exposed shoulder. I'm no kid.
I want her.
Sexually.
It's a mere attraction which fades but it's there when it is and I rub her softly, as she presses me harder, surely another person in the mind, as another name is called, as I go lower, the shoulder no longer my interest, her eyes firmly closed and I feel her play with the hem of my own shirt and she traces a line upon my arm and I hiss, feeling it open.
Because this time it’s real.
“Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?”
Those words aren’t mine and maybe just maybe the feelings aren’t mine as well.
But just until now.
Then I lunge myself forward after a quick gaze exchange, she's not there, opening my mouth a bit too fast, sucking her tongue, raising her t-shirt, not letting her take a lazy gasp of air as I feel the victory of hunger. How long?
I don't even look down.
I don't need to.
The other name traces in my head as I remember her lace.
I want to take it all off.
Take my mind off.
Finger it.
As if I cutting it out a few blood men, make me fall in love with Alice.
Make me stop thinking of Lola.
Tranquilize my desire with your body above.
May I pray to it?
As I press my lips against her breast.
Can I bite your nipple off?
Feed me with death and your meat shall be the feast.
Take away the dreams of yourself away from my dark twisted mind, where I shall touch myself to you when you bleed.
Let my hands pulse.
I pull back trying to understand birth in front of me.
She's pale and stupid.
I want her.
So bad.
I know what she wants she pulls me by my shoulders crushing herself against me, hoping to find something that would remind her of him.
Nor does she remind me of Lola.
“Sorry.” She apologizes, gazes meet as the tip of my tongue traces a line on her neck amd she looks disgusted, realizing that maybe we both had gone too far, hello dairy product. Kayleen tries to stand up but I pull her back into my lap, as I erase all the emotion besides sexual attraction in my head, the concept reminds me of homosexuality, pinning her wrists against her knees with one hand the other adjusting on the back of her neck.
I don’t love her.
He does.
I love her.
He doesn’t.
She loves him.
She doesn’t love me.
She loves me.
It’s like a corrupted triangle, but then it will always be, since there’s two of me. I'll always want to fuck myself with a scarf in the legs.
Fuck?
I feel her stroke the back of my head as her fingers travel down and she actually exposes my chest, circles all over as she also goes a bit down, kissing my neck to go back up into my eyes.
Stop it.
She takes my past and kisses it, traces, combs it all over, the holes gone, glue inside.
I open my eyes, watching her emotions as I don’t break the kiss, as she keeps her eyes shut. Is this a bad thing?
Because if this is a sin, kid, it’s a good one.
I continue the kiss, realizing how quick did I change that I add an unsureness in the kiss, a few thoughts lingering, just a few, before I hear Macy stroke the back of my head and grab it to lick my lips, she sees it and then Macy vanishes, haunting, a broken portrait in a mirror with a newspaper, causing her to break it and stare at me for a while.
Enough. Big shift bigshiftbigshiftbigshift.
She stares, she leans, she goes down, up, doesn't go down, she should, mind foggy and hand ache.
“I have a boyfriend, Roman.” She leans back, looking down at her exposed torso and then her eyes go up to my own.
“I have Alice.” I don’t say girlfriend because that’s what she is to me just Alice. Nothing more, a stupid teenage doll playing with her teacher. “She’s a fucking student, thinking that she can hit on me.”
I wink at her, feeling the need for a smoke. I press my forehead against hers and close my eyes, I feel tender.
“It’s nice to cheat, y’know? I mean in some occasions like this one.” I trail my fingers across her jaw, then kissing her jaw line, she'd be next, one to another. She looks up, feeling herself exhale. I wonder if she knows what’s going on.
We should put this on hold, even if I can control over kid and the transformations.
Then we both stand up, as if nothing ever happened. Of course nothing did, I’m still the fucking teacher who is apparently trying to snog his students while she’s a proper girlfriend who is trying to get into psychology from poems. I can’t help but grin at her as I leave, to pin my own self against the wall, the cold reflection my thoughts, as I remove what's left, vanity, it's seeds.
I expect to see the same reaction from her, but instead she bites her lips and turns around focusing her attention on the spoon mixing the tea liquid with sugar. I want to rush up to her, but I don’t do that. All I do is out the door, trying to understand.
I’m I Roman or Norman?
Fuck.
---
This chapter was always horrible to write. The second draft was as difficult as the first and it takes time before I fall in love with it.
It contains spoilers for the Papercut Prequel, doesn't it?
What is a pearl and the hair colour changes?
Exciter helped once more, so thank you, Depeche Mode although it was hard to pick after I finished Exciter, but still.
Once more, thanks, Thom-Thom.
Also Kayleen changed along with her relation to Norman, as he ends up having a closer bond to Macy, as every relation is now new and edited.
Want to understand Papercut fully? Vote on your left for the prequel.
(2014): Um, there is no voting now, but you can check what was posted of prequel here: Ladder To The Red Moon Gathering
Chapter 32
Some sick tune destroying my mood, taking out the tongue and pouring syrup on it, as I try to reflect a scene in front with a girl smoking a cigarette and a balcony, like a house of cards with one single move causing the air to shiver and the building to tremble, shatter into a pile, the oxygen is the house and the lips are among the nude houses.
Let's ride a horse. I want to bite it's neck, as confetti will pour out and I'll use ink to cover my bodies.
I press myself into the pillow not finding a known strawberry scent.
How cheap was that?
Always comparing a girl’s scent, taste to berries?
As if you can actually lick the sticker off, a body, just sexual attraction, the cock thanks for me, a myth naively held by betrayed women.
Lola tasted like mint.
I swallow, imagining the taste I was longing for, I want to wrap it up.
Or maybe I wasn’t?
I could hear a door shut with a light bang. I could see her breathing heavily, clutching the fabric of her shirt, as she slips onto the floor, wash it all off, her breath a scream. Kayleen’s light blue eyes are never raised, to catch me peeking, spying, stalking her like a peeping Thomas, but then I wasn't the interested one. Only there was no wooden wall, I'm not digging my nails into the wood trying to catch at least a small glimpse to satisfy my imagination. She raised her palm to her forehead, brushing off her steaks, poking her Converse, as I'd return under the covers, the tears now holding another meaning maybe with both hands tied and no one would care, nor me nor Roman, trying to calm down.
There was something about her, sitting there like a doll, only there were topics to be held, even if I pictured her differently, just that the other self, what about him, one strap falling down, as she lets it brush her shoulder, as her eyes are bursting from confusion. The red head turns her head away, letting her palm press against her mouth muffling her ongoing ranting as if she were the one to speak with the mouth open, the tension and desire plastered, letting herself swallow them, letting them rip her from inside.
What did it feel when you were torn even with a previous affection? I wondered where would I be with the beloved second part of mine, what if your split-personality was your soul mate?
She rubs her face with the same hand, the other resting on her knee, relaxing while the other had the task to relax her.
Is she crying?
She isn't.
I want her to cry in my arms, I want to stroke her, as my hair colour would change from one to another, as I'd hold a few pearls in my hands, maybe her hair would go black, natural, some previous lover.
But then I want her to, not understanding whose idea it was to press the lips against her cheeks, feeling the salty taste, as I'd lick it off, holding her eyes and leaning in to forget how it'd feel.
I could hear a snore, maybe he was asleep or faking it while whispering nonsense into my ear. Maybe he was the culprit here, as I felt my legs take me further, further downstairs to show myself under the dim corridor lamp under several hats triggering paper and sketches to stand on tiptoes and bite, which was the only one lit, giving the room a spooky state most likely to all of the dark curtains pulled shut, eating away the light. She raises her head, her emotions as if she had been crying but no evidence is held or shown.
And the fear of acceptance is on a chain. As the thoughts fiddle and turn, fucking each other, as if it were something else to do.
Kayleen should be there, have something in her name for me to want her, for us to want her up to the point that I'd press her against the wall, biting her lips, my hands raising her t-shirt and not expecting Lola underneath or in the threesome. I'd cheat on them, I'd make them cheat in front.
Kayleen. I want to pronounce her name, as I'd feel a different tingle take over my body, eating me fully. It feels cheesy. It feels not right. I should be in my bed, forcing myself to sleep under the imagination of Lola’s scent. That’s it. I should think about my next move on Alice, but nothing. But then isn’t it what it always starts from? An unknown mix of emotions, adrenaline, the mind completely blank, no exact tune in the head, screaming out phrases urging you to stop it by one single action.
One mere action. One step and one fling. One big flirt.
“Roman? I w-"
I shut her up by pinning myself against her, I feel her excited, there is the reflection of the sexy confusion I feel, in her eyes I feel my breathing go faster as her face in inches from mine, still not blurring out the vision. I could see myself stroking her hair, the red slipping in my fingers, colouring, her hair flowing as her eyelashes and slightly opened lips, pornography, let me takes pictures, let me draw you as I feel my hands going down and it's heated up there as I lean in, brush my lips near her own, pull, feeling her lips mouth silent words as I mouth my own, pray.
Kayleen looks up at me, I feel high and then we just look at eachother, my hand goes upper and when she closes her eyes I go for it, my lips press a pattern against hers before I feel her mouth softness exposed, as I stroke her exposed shoulder. I'm no kid.
I want her.
Sexually.
It's a mere attraction which fades but it's there when it is and I rub her softly, as she presses me harder, surely another person in the mind, as another name is called, as I go lower, the shoulder no longer my interest, her eyes firmly closed and I feel her play with the hem of my own shirt and she traces a line upon my arm and I hiss, feeling it open.
Because this time it’s real.
“Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?”
Those words aren’t mine and maybe just maybe the feelings aren’t mine as well.
But just until now.
Then I lunge myself forward after a quick gaze exchange, she's not there, opening my mouth a bit too fast, sucking her tongue, raising her t-shirt, not letting her take a lazy gasp of air as I feel the victory of hunger. How long?
I don't even look down.
I don't need to.
The other name traces in my head as I remember her lace.
I want to take it all off.
Take my mind off.
Finger it.
As if I cutting it out a few blood men, make me fall in love with Alice.
Make me stop thinking of Lola.
Tranquilize my desire with your body above.
May I pray to it?
As I press my lips against her breast.
Can I bite your nipple off?
Feed me with death and your meat shall be the feast.
Take away the dreams of yourself away from my dark twisted mind, where I shall touch myself to you when you bleed.
Let my hands pulse.
I pull back trying to understand birth in front of me.
She's pale and stupid.
I want her.
So bad.
I know what she wants she pulls me by my shoulders crushing herself against me, hoping to find something that would remind her of him.
Nor does she remind me of Lola.
“Sorry.” She apologizes, gazes meet as the tip of my tongue traces a line on her neck amd she looks disgusted, realizing that maybe we both had gone too far, hello dairy product. Kayleen tries to stand up but I pull her back into my lap, as I erase all the emotion besides sexual attraction in my head, the concept reminds me of homosexuality, pinning her wrists against her knees with one hand the other adjusting on the back of her neck.
I don’t love her.
He does.
I love her.
He doesn’t.
She loves him.
She doesn’t love me.
She loves me.
It’s like a corrupted triangle, but then it will always be, since there’s two of me. I'll always want to fuck myself with a scarf in the legs.
Fuck?
I feel her stroke the back of my head as her fingers travel down and she actually exposes my chest, circles all over as she also goes a bit down, kissing my neck to go back up into my eyes.
Stop it.
She takes my past and kisses it, traces, combs it all over, the holes gone, glue inside.
I open my eyes, watching her emotions as I don’t break the kiss, as she keeps her eyes shut. Is this a bad thing?
Because if this is a sin, kid, it’s a good one.
I continue the kiss, realizing how quick did I change that I add an unsureness in the kiss, a few thoughts lingering, just a few, before I hear Macy stroke the back of my head and grab it to lick my lips, she sees it and then Macy vanishes, haunting, a broken portrait in a mirror with a newspaper, causing her to break it and stare at me for a while.
Enough. Big shift bigshiftbigshiftbigshift.
She stares, she leans, she goes down, up, doesn't go down, she should, mind foggy and hand ache.
“I have a boyfriend, Roman.” She leans back, looking down at her exposed torso and then her eyes go up to my own.
“I have Alice.” I don’t say girlfriend because that’s what she is to me just Alice. Nothing more, a stupid teenage doll playing with her teacher. “She’s a fucking student, thinking that she can hit on me.”
I wink at her, feeling the need for a smoke. I press my forehead against hers and close my eyes, I feel tender.
“It’s nice to cheat, y’know? I mean in some occasions like this one.” I trail my fingers across her jaw, then kissing her jaw line, she'd be next, one to another. She looks up, feeling herself exhale. I wonder if she knows what’s going on.
We should put this on hold, even if I can control over kid and the transformations.
Then we both stand up, as if nothing ever happened. Of course nothing did, I’m still the fucking teacher who is apparently trying to snog his students while she’s a proper girlfriend who is trying to get into psychology from poems. I can’t help but grin at her as I leave, to pin my own self against the wall, the cold reflection my thoughts, as I remove what's left, vanity, it's seeds.
I expect to see the same reaction from her, but instead she bites her lips and turns around focusing her attention on the spoon mixing the tea liquid with sugar. I want to rush up to her, but I don’t do that. All I do is out the door, trying to understand.
I’m I Roman or Norman?
Fuck.
---
This chapter was always horrible to write. The second draft was as difficult as the first and it takes time before I fall in love with it.
It contains spoilers for the Papercut Prequel, doesn't it?
What is a pearl and the hair colour changes?
Exciter helped once more, so thank you, Depeche Mode although it was hard to pick after I finished Exciter, but still.
Once more, thanks, Thom-Thom.
Also Kayleen changed along with her relation to Norman, as he ends up having a closer bond to Macy, as every relation is now new and edited.
Want to understand Papercut fully? Vote on your left for the prequel.
(2014): Um, there is no voting now, but you can check what was posted of prequel here: Ladder To The Red Moon Gathering
Chapter 32
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