It’s about staring.
And getting an axe out of reality the one you stand in and the one which is.
So I take it and I let it become the axe until it can devour the past and become mine, reality, the one I want, now.
I want to kiss home.
I wonder what would home be. I think everyone asks themselves that question and I guess parents become out of the question, soon enough. I tried to think about my own and I had nothing besides Alison and Jamie running around as if they were back to being kids once more and I sat there for a while.
Meg sat besides me, reaching out to stroke my arm.
Maybe she had dyed her hair and she had been my wife?
Maybe there was only Pete to ask.
If to choose one way to get to life should you go to the dead and back, but then Jamie had been there and all he had been doing was dancing around with Alison, maybe he was the dead as well.
Maybe dancing was lying dead in this world.
I stood up and opened the cupboard, the fridge, to get out a pot with chicken soup made made by Jamie. He never said where he would get the ingredients, but then where would I get the bullets so that my gun would always be filled?
Maybe I should shoot more bullets to myself.
“You alright, Jack?” And I look up to see Meg and then I hug her, lifting her up from her feet so that her head would be on my shoulder and I feel her dangling feet. I wonder what would her real height be.
I take out my gun.
I think I feel the scars on my face, I press my fingers against the skin and I trace a line which starts to sting. Meg just kisses my neck. Maybe somewhere I would be caught for pedophilia. I wonder
and maybe Alison will run in and see my tongue rubbing against Meg’s as I shall have an erection, but I don’t think that Jamie’s pants or her underwear will be of any difference.
People have sexual attraction so I kiss Meg deeper, she hesitates but gives in and I wonder if she will grow everywhere. I wonder if Alison would stare.
But instead I keep kissing Meg and on her neck and I wonder how she would look with shorter hair or red.
I keep getting dragged away by her instead of taking out the gun and trying to shoot both me and her, maybe that would be something, maybe that is why people end their lives, boredom, but what is there to this street and if I know that there is an afterlife with people dancing and maybe even playing music, what should keep me here if maybe there I will see myself and Meg, maybe
Just like in that dream Jamie will play with Alison’s tension and on drunk nights she’ll mutter a phrase and that would be it and she would be miserable on his wedding and kiss a woman.
And we will all break up and the only glue will be music.
Maybe I should have sex here, with Alison in my head and maybe I should believe in God. I don’t know, so I just lift up her dress.
I kiss her legs.
I wonder why Nabokov didn’t include a full explicit sex scene with Lolita, I never finished reading, it seemed boring, so I try to memorize how her skin feel as I travel up with my tongue.
I wonder if I’ll be young enough again later as I shoot a bullet under my chin and I feel it in my tongue and I spit it out, I have no blood, only if I trace my fingers against the wound.
So Meg traces and sticks her finger in and I can suck that finger so I do.
She starts tearing the fabric of my skin with her fingers. And I just keep on kissing her, er fingers slightly in my blood and I keep my eyes closed. I shoot another bullet to the side of my head, as I sleep on my back sometimes or maybe so that I would sleep with my eyes open and the bullet is stuck there, nuzzling my brain.
So I hesitate and then I shoot three bullets straight and I check the gun. It is charged, I keep shooting and I wonder if I am in the middle of a stage. It feels like I am shooting at the audience. I kill, but I do not see it and the bullets are always there.
Or maybe I am here to play?
Maybe I am in the band or maybe I just got onstage to shag someone and sing the chorus.
Maybe I should rip Meg aside, two sides, so that there would be sex with twins, which do not touch or even hold hands and my cock will be licked by the cold as Pete would turn off the heaters and he would be standing with Kate eating an apple, one of Jamie’s frozen apples and spitting out the seeds on me, thinking that I had stolen Pete.
Maybe she’ll think
They look too intimate.
I wonder and I look at Meg.
Sometimes the mind goes blank, maybe it’s just a scene.
Maybe I am in front of everyone and Meg is behind me. She looks young.
I look young.
Maybe it’s the life flashing in front of my eyes as I hold a plastic guitar and the strings lure my fingers and I see people jumping and Pete smoking his joint.
Or I am just about to live?
Should I go offstage, but instead I go down on the crowd and it becomes too crowded that they slowly vanish and I have to make my way to Pete. He stands there, fixing his fedora and taking out another joint then throwing himself on the floor. He closes his eyes and listens to the mute concert until he waves his hand for the older Meg to play a steady rhythm on the drums and he nods his head with it.
He looks up at me and gives me the joint.
“You wanted it.” And I inhale, as I feel two Pete’s singing the lyrics of a song into both of ears as the crowd slowly appears and another song is heard with the same lyrics only a younger man is singing it and he resembles me only he doesn’t have facial hair and maybe this is his life and I just hold his body.
I give the joint back to Pete, but Meg keeps the rhythm despite the audience reduction.
I am back and the daily basis is now back!
Thank you everyone for supporting and all the luck!
Thank you so so much!