Wednesday, 31 August 2011

Bodies Double

It’s about waiting for the next question to flop out of the mouth, as I would expect nothing, wondering what would short hair hint as I’d wait wondering, what would the silence mean with the sudden stroke under the table from the skinny creature in front.

Big frames and a small mouth, baggy tank top, the nipples were hard for a second, but the gender not there, as I saw Lonnie get louder, as the human would laugh, hair going back with the movement of fingers as I started as the one untied doc Martens, as Lonnie grinned more.

“Lonnie, yeah, I know, unisex.” Lonnie would laugh, the newly died black hair clashing against the skin and the frames a bit too big.

The jeans seemed to be baggy, as she walked across the hallway, came back with a light erection I believe, but seemed to be in the females and had talked about girls, about how it had felt the very first time, asking if I were a virgin.

I just looked up, maybe this was what university was, so I just went with the flow, saying that I wasn’t, thinking that fingering had been enough, even if it were myself in front of a mirror, as I made out, a dare my boyfriend had done.

“So...Do you like girls?” Lonnie would ask the next second, fixing the falling off frames, tapping the fingers to some beat I’ve heard on the stereo a few seconds ago, offering me the drink which was going through the straw to reach Lonnie’s body.

I nodded, in hesitation.

Everyone had seen me make-out with a girl.

You know when you just see red hair against the blue sky, a hemline so low that you could lick a sugar trail and up to those lips as the would shine against the sun.

You just dare yourself and you do it, even if the girl doesn’t kiss back.

Lonnie grinned.

“What made you shift to males?” A hand across my cheek.

I felt myself go uncomfortable. Those big dark eyes under the frames and the curiosity of Lonnie’s was just luring, as I could feel the being take a sip of her drink and pour it into my mouth, as we both swallowed three glasses straight with the hands being the music over the speakers.

Lonnie had a girlfriend

Lonnie had a boyfriend

I recall the pillow fight, as Lonnie had stripped me from my underwear, I had cried that I was a virgin laughing, as Lonnie would lick my clit once, to see me shiver.

Lonnie all in clothes.

Lonnie pouring vodka all over my body, soaking the t-shirt and bra just to suck on it later, as a male would stroke his cock over the image, as a girl flashed her breasts and I scissored her, taking another bottle from the floor, feeling a cock go inside me, as I cried from the sudden swing of events.

I licked swings when I was a girl I’d say to a pair of breasts, as Lonnie went inside me, telling me to ease, Lonnie was so good, as I felt someone else go inside me, anal, oh, anal

then all of it stopped

Lonnie’s mouth on my entrance as I’d come

Breasts on my own, they were beautiful, as I pulled them hearing a scream, pressing myself against the body. I kissed her, playing with her breats, as if they were my own as I’d see myself licking the mirror, as a cock would go inside, teasing, anal, as I pinned her down and spread her legs, positioning myself and rubbing until she’d come

Then she would pull my nipples, so hard, as a cock was shoved into my mouth and I sucked the swollen heaven, feeling the body on top as I’d see a colour of the eyes and close them, licking harder, taking the sin in my mouth, as I stroked the balls.

I’d shift them both and lick the cock, the pussy, licking Lonnie, one of them was Lonnie unless it was the camera man.

Every time I wanked I always imagined myself doing it to a screen, that people would see me stroke and join, skinny men with cocks in hand as they’d suck their hands afterwards, as they’d think of their lover instead.

I’d feel Lonnie on top of me, the other watching, touching, moaning, a demand for attention.

Lonnie would go inside

Lonnie would

wake up with the pile of baggy clothes, both of us, Lonnie’s armpits unshaved, curled next to me, Adam’s apple breathing.


“Why did they call you Lonnie, anyway?” I’d know the gender.

“Because they’d think I’d be a fag.” Lonnie would sip my tea, grinning.


Bodies Double is a line from Placebo's Nancy Boy.

"I want to write a threesome"

And it ended up being about gender confusion, really.



Thank you for reading, holding and believing in gTs for the past year.



P.S. In reality everything is in the blog, really.


Friday, 26 August 2011

Exit. Chapter 8

I have him in my head for a while.

White button up shirt.
Loose tie.
Dark pants.
I give him Converse as I don’t remember what he had on his feet.
Black jacket.

I don’t see him at breakfast even if I find myself looking at every dyed-looking red head, clearly failing, wondering at my sudden interest in red heads. I find myself listening to music so loud, that I practically burn my toast. I refill the toaster with two plain slices, hoping and paying my attention to the new toast, even lowering my music.

I take one out, then fingers brush against my palm. The fingers back away from my hand, but take the slice anyway, as I shrug. I look up to see teal eyes and my toast between his lips, one hand holding the toast as the other is in the pocket. One teal winks and he walks off, leaving me in a light and rather dumb trance.

I turn on the music louder.


I mute out Leslie for the rest of the lesson and the day as we sit nearly elbowing each other in the classroom. I act cold. I talk to Jonny who complains at today’s juice choice. I ask him to talk with Leslie, he does, but Leslie doesn’t answer. He’s not as bright to answer Jonny. Does he even like Radiohead?

“Hey, Roberta, Jonny.”

I flinch and yank my headphones, as the escape my ears leaving a numb pain as they pulse. I nearly stand up as I look around to find out where I had heard that voice. Nowhere. I don’t see the red head. Leslie asks if I am ok. I nod and find myself trying to sink into the conversation, still hearing the red head’s voice whispering against my ear, his lips so close that I practically feel them. But there’s no one there and after a while I stick a headphone.

He sighs, runs a hand through my hair, shrugs and leaves. Then he returns, rocks on his heels and apologizes silently.

Maybe it’s in my head.

Then he leaves.


Then the part comes where the main character struggles. He either smokes roughly, throwing the cig aside looking all epic or decides that heroin is the better choice and gives some through his vein intoxicating his soul. He’d get her into drugs.

Only there’s one problem.

‘Sides the fact that I won’t do drugs.

But then it’s not like I’m struggling.

There’s Leslie.

There’s Graham, who is Leslie, but taller, apparently and worships Jonny.

There’s Jonny.



There’s the –

Does it even matter?

Because it does.

It rips the soul in a natural way, but just then when I see him, leaving a tingling feeling until it fades away or when he appears in my mind, the red flashing brighter than ever, the teal eyes locking my gaze in a firm grip.

I try to convince myself but nothing, knowing that today, no Jonny, Leslie or Graham is stroking the back of my neck, pulling my tuque, pressing a goodnight kiss, there shall be a change, just for one night.

I pull the covers, stirring as I try to get out, but I let my mind intertwine with what I feel, knowing that it’s a one night, nothing more. Like that calm second in New Year’s Eve where you blindly believe that everything will be ok, that Jonny will either jump out of the cake or from a gift box, nothing else. But I know that it won’t happen.

Then I turn my head to the left, consuming the fact that he may be there.

I open the box.


What had I found in him?

Was it the possibility to imagine him like I wanted?

Was it the fact that he didn’t give a name, letting my mind wonder?

Was it the whole fact that I knew nothing and my mind couldn’t draw anything giving out an urge to stand up in my pajamas, run around the school corridors in search of a single glimpse. This wasn’t what I wanted. This wasn’t in the book.

Is it a sin to feel for once and forget? Just one like a faint memory, nothing to regret, like a small dream, a brief encounter a small date, not knowing nothing, forgetting everything told, yet remembering every word. Was it a sin to forget?

Why must it always be surrounded in broken vases, rivers of tears, ‘he is not worthy’ speeches and blank excuses? Why must there always be that search for that one knowing that reality will end like that? More and more shards surrounding?

Why must it be hidden?

I wanted to show my emotions, not pile them inside, biting my lips, whenever I’d see and desire, but actually do it. Screw it if the chosen can’t deal with it. Then he’s not the chosen one.

Maybe I’d be ok; knowing that the guy throws away it pompously, but deep inside loves me. I’d be ok with that.

I won’t.

I won’t kiss Leslie.

I won’t handle myself if I actually do meet Jonathan and do whatever my heart desires.

I wouldn’t even handle planting a small kiss on the red head’s cheek or trace my fingers up to his cheekbone from the lip corner, because I had chosen another.

But I do that, just once, when he sits there. I do it, ignoring how real it may feel, knowing that it’s all in my head.


Sorry for the Exit delay, I've been quite busy and will be, but now there will be no delays. Sorry about that.

Chapter 9

Thursday, 25 August 2011


You buy yourself a drumset.
And you play it,
Until the blue breaks,
Leading the red into the ocean.
The waves which the rain makes.
And then you sleep.
To the sounds you produced.
To find a hand check twice.
If you’re dead.


Amy Winehouse played a drum set before she died and her father had checked on her twice, after she played it and in the morning to just find her dead.

I found it beautiful.
I find death beautiful.

Hello, shut up please.

Wednesday, 17 August 2011


I woke up from a dream
Turner fucked me with whipped cream
He was my sweetie
I was his candycane
We had Christmas upon the lane
As we had eaten the things we’ve lost
Like his virginity up his chimney
My bloody babies turned into dust
With my Coldplay collection
Which I had lost
Among his hairy chest
And white raisin eyes
Which I had sunk in
As I had seen
Him between Stipe and Yorke
On a silver screen
He had done it himself
With scissors and a pen
As he used to rap
Because he had a cockstrap
And he had seen
Beauty upon the canteen
He had seen me
After the dream
He spat in my face
Killed my corpse
And wrote a song
Which he had seen
When he was young


Dunno, I like the yellow pages and Peter Andre is just there, so that's where the title comes from.

Following the Alex Turner theme and this poem is one of my personal faves, was hilarious to write it.


Thursday, 11 August 2011


Let’s have sex before we die
Let’s paint before we die
Because when we’ll be dead
We’ll be busy dancing
On some rotten dancefloor
And you’ll look like utter shit
Because sweetie, you’re Alex Turner


It was written along with another poem, also about Alex Turner, one evening, laughing, as I wrote it.

Sorry for the delay, but hey, I'm back.


Saturday, 6 August 2011

because you’re worthless fuck yes, you are

What if I were dead
And you were merely a fragment of imagination
From all the leaked out juices as some sort of suicide was committed upon a rope
With soap
Because that’s how it’s told
That’s how the words flow to hold
Something which is now gone
Something which is bleak because you don’t believe in it
Because you’re honest about it
Because you care about it
Because you’ve died once
Because the blacony was luring
Because the bathtub was hot
Because sexuality was a factor
Because you weren’t honest about it
Until you held it
Close to swallow
And see the sky
Which could’ve been above
It’s the world you’ve eaten
It’s the world you’ve lost
It’s the world you’ve lived
Somewhere else
Because you’re
More than worthless
With the juice a tomato soup


I am currently and fully back from the Writing Course. Exhausted, yet very very happy about it, was great.

It was written on the night before it started. It's my favourite poem to read aloud, yes, I enjoy just reading out my stuff, just do, even if the first time I did it, I was shaking and it had been impossible to understand me.

Give me some time and everything shall be back on it's daily track. A few days of sleep is good.

Yes, I have somethings to share.

Hope everyone had a great summer or still will.