Tuesday, 13 March 2012

Schizomilk 4

I wanted to steal Katie’s photo album, just to see her smile all over so that I could spit on her face and lie with her on top of me, telling her fate how her body was rotten and how Jamie wouldn’t go to her funeral.

At least I thought he wouldn’t.

He tore the wallpaper to come and say hi, his hair gelled back and his eyes a bit too wide as he sat on the floor, denying all cigarettes and I told him how I wanted to get rid of all of Kate’s evidence and I told him about the photo albums, in the end he brought them to me, cleaning off the dust.

I recall how the wallpaper crooks when he walks in and how I threw myself at him, breathing heavily, hungrily, but not touching him, besides taking his wrists in my hands and then slowly giving a kiss to each and smiling at him.

“I love you.” I keep saying to him without any actions and the albums were in my lap with Jamie’s head so that his eyes could be split by paper and he would watch all the high school, kinder garden and girls with their first bras and without and he stroked my waist sometimes.

Sometimes he would lift his head up to try and kiss me and he would fall back, curling his feet closer, his knees and himself maybe to me, maybe to Kate, maybe into the walls, as I sat under the drawn sun and the stars and the moon and the skies and I just stroked his dark hair as he tried to relax.

“I love you.” Jamie said and the sun seemed to collapse on me and instead I just dug my fingers deeper into his hair as if I would find a switch would would turn this reaction off, but instead his eyes were deep down in mine.

A well.

Jack phoned us a few times, asking, before everything saw the conspiracy in both of us killing the model, as we’d kiss, tongues clashing as we’d listen to Jack, as he would put music in the background.

Jack also visited us with a suitcase which had a tie hanging out of it and the leather had no meaning and the man just sat cross legged, tapping his fingers, foot and body against the chair.

If you don’t kiss the man you love for long you start forgetting and every kiss becomes the first kiss as you grin under the drawn sun, because that’s where we make out and where I spread out my hands to burn like Kate and the ring is always intact, ashes flying out of it when I put it on and I had my hand out of the window, spreading a bit of Kate into the forgotten world or the forgotten Kate by all brands, slowly.

She’s burnt to crisp, she’s like bacon and she’s my vision.

Up to some distinction that I would say that I love her.

She would be my God.

She would be my savior.

She would be my Jesus.

She would be the cross that I bear across my neck and I carry, a death just sticks to your teeth, like gum to skin and you can’t chew it through.

Sometimes she yells at me in my dreams, so foggy like candy floss that by the end of the dream I eat her and she came once, in heels, pointy boots and even black hair.

It were a mirror, Jamie brought along and I looked how pale I was and how the black hair had gone away.

Jack visited us.

He walked in the room and sat with me, as I waited for Jamie to deal and get himself a trial, as Jack would draw some people across the stars, all holding hands, maybe some sign of us not to give up, the ashes were blown by the wind, a few left and those were taken for us to blame and maybe a sentence to be muttered against Jack in court as he would know and glue his lips with red duct tape over it and pray.

He gave me his hat and I wore it for three days, before Jamie stripped me out of my skin ad threw me in the cold shower, as I gulped the water for the air and then popped me back into my skin.

Our scales are deep, the skin is the cellophane which kills our ability to be mermaids and I grabbed Jamie’s cock as he was washing me and stroked it as we made out and Jack walked past, seeing both of us naked, smiling.

And we got a bubble bath which Jack made for us as we had sex in the water and it felt too good, when Jamie went down and his skin was stripped down and maybe Jack sold the tickets for our show as I saw yellow eyes hungrily staring from the walls of the tub as we would sink in and hold necks together and bodies, legs dissolving from the soft liquids we produce and the ones are made and we sink deeper, cheek to cheek, until we stick our heads out gasping for air.

We killed Kate.

I think he poisoned her as well, he should’ve done something to her, Jamie couldn’t have just stood her all these years.

He brewed poison from ivy and strawberries and some other stuff just to feed her after sex, hit the vulnerable and the unborn baby with all the pills he gave her.

Jamie never loved Kate.

Jamie loved me.

And Jack would film, cheating on a feather from his top hat.

And we should all dance I said, as there were bangs on the door and we all hid, besides Jack outside, who would’ve taken the shots, but walked out, excusing and asking where would Jamie Hince be and making a face, as me and Jamie pressed our cheeks again and sunk into the floor, feeling the dust, the unknown mice and thoughts being vacuumed by Jack next day.

We’d be

body to body


Schizomilk 5

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