Wednesday, 25 January 2012

Degrading Haystack With Red Moons Printed Across Part 4

Jaidem snore laughed in his sleep, mumbling stuff about bees, lakes and jumping tuna bears in the far off distances tasting, licking the sticky lemon sun with its minty clouds clinging to it like-



Hash took over.

Run, run, run. Love’s eating you.

Along with the girl in lace holding it in her hands, her lips brushing off your bruises, her eyes taking away the fabric, hands raising yours and meeting gazes.



“It’s not salty.” She says and takes some salt, taking the lid off and throwing quite an amount while laughing, brushing each other’s lace off, because you can’t chew with a mouth full of lace. Unless you want to choke and die bent in two, as the moon meets yours in a quick state of utter trance, resembling something you’ve never felt but always wanted to, because then judging quotes, life would have got dyed, drained and turned into something it is today.

Macy exhales, you laugh.

You realize it’s you with the wanting feel of Jaidem’s auburn hair, crooked but now repaired teeth and fucking crazy smile turning into a snarl of disgust by the amount of opposite salt combined with sweet scent of cookies from nowhere and images of flying hoax saucers on the walls compared to the eyes in front , which are not and will not be a hoax.

Because I’m the hoax,

I laugh,

Macy inhales.

I exhale for her with her mouth in mine, twice.

Salty. Zaltee.

It’s nothing fancy, because the word has lost all its meaning with my endless desire of not touching the stove and watching the same lazy as me customers digging out bank notes, cards or low excuses on the table with empty plates.

But it’s different because I’ve got Macy thinking about being vegan or not. I’ve decided about myself long ago, so the question is long dropped and I never pursue anybody like Jaidem said he liked to do, back when he was alive.

“What?” I asked, rocking myself back and forth after a role denial. I seemed to get quite an amount lately and they seemed to lead to nervous smoking with no cigs involved even between the lines, streets, cars and bandaged pavements.

“When somebody else was, with auburn hair and piercing eyes.” He gestured to a sandy and blue coloured pearl on his sleeve and the appearing steak and several hairs showing on his chin under his crooked sad grin.

“Did you kill him?” My eyes were rusty from the lack of sleep, too wired by coffee to fall down and impossible to blink the fear of failure away. My jaw trembled in a nice bumpy rhythm with my hands. I closed my mouth with my hands, a gesture shown as shock in different scenes. “You fucking killed him?!”

My voice broke into several echoes around the room, as I grabbed my hair, trying to pull it out like loose strings in a broken walking on two legs pillow.

“What? No, no-” He catches my stare. Brings out a cancer stick, lights it for the dramatically effect. He’s mocking me. “You can put it one way.”

“You fucking killed him?!” I hiss, turning my face towards him ready to pounce on him and take the guy’s life back.

“Auburn suits me, doesn’t it, Devyn?” He spits the words at my face. Before I make my move towards him, he raises his hand, runs several fingers on my throat, feeling something until I choke and a pearl is caught between my lips. My lips are numb and do nothing until he takes the pearl away from my mouth. Jaidem takes out a needle, a string and a pair of scissors and sews the pearl onto his sleeve. “I was going to help you, you fool. Well, die then, like you were s’posed to then.”

I stand up and he watches me the beard on his face growing with the length of his auburn hair turning gray and back blonde in the next second. I take out a gun from the drawer, it’s suppose to be a stage gun. I take it and aim at Jaidem. He raises an eyebrow and blows a smoke ring in my direction.

I shoot.

A pearl rolls on the floor, hitting a wall with a drawn mouse hole. I want a mouse. I want mice to eat his brains out, eat his raw flesh with the leaking lust blackening the world.
“I killed too many, Devyn to die just like that.” He takes the bullet out of his chest, poking the heart in the process as the wound heals. Jaidem smiles weakly, closing his eyes for a second, rolling himself into a big green ball with growing red facial hair.

“Like nothing bad happens to a bastard?”

“Yeah.” Hesitation. “Until he gets to hell.”

He shivers. I throw the gun away and throw a blanket over him, burying him in my thoughts and list of good people, because he is a murder.

I am a murderer too.

I kill feelings.

With that trigger I kill motions, feelings sprayed on the stage as I come out filled with hay, throwing it up attracting everyone with my skinny bones and high cheekbones shredded by painful papercuts as I scream to my death in the final scene.

Of the sequel.

“You can’t show a suicide. It’s not real. It has to be real, sorry. It’s hard?”

“Is that a decline?”

“No. Fuck no.”

So what you do next is hesitate while learning the phrases the way you should lay with the hay behind you, the way the hands should be raised, the length of the hair and the improvising ideas in my head. I want to shave it to leave the lace in the hay with needles as I could stitch my skin with blood leaking down my skin, mixing with sweat, spit, tears and screams as the suicide commences.

It should be a mixture of emotions.

Jaidem watches me closely, as I lay on the rug with hay scattered.

“Then I cut my hair.”

“Then I swallow the bullet.” I say gesturing upon my tongue the fingers trailing deeper as if I’m going to swallow them, savor them and walk with the lack of two fingers lingering in my stomach or rather transformed and nothing left rather than the thought.

Like after a suicide.

Only the thoughts reminding of the people, because the body is long rotten.

Because we are disgusted by anything rotten, even love as we grimace while savoring it raw.

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