Friday, 2 November 2012

working mica

Take a cherry, squeeze it out and I will promise you,

You will get drunk

With the scene and all the girls in a row

And my blonde wig which sometimes goes in a curl up to my knees and I will be given kisses you will never dream of, brief from all women running in a circle, all the men stretching out their hands as glitter falls and lands on your lips just to be eaten by the next person and then you take a peach

to ripe your dream and eat a feast.

You leave with a newspaper in hand from here, you sit in the cloudy room, full of clouds a sky which will echo your soul and you will sit there until you are allowed to leave that’s when all your devices are handed back to you, sweetheart.

You are no longer covered in glitter and you walk out to whatever you are supposed to walk out and if it is tomorrow your tomorrow’s choice of clothes will be handed ironed fresh from your wardrobe to you and you will only remember the stripes of these walls as you walk on further you will recall the faces, the lips and how nude you feel without the make up, a lot find the need to come back, a lot just head over to boots to buy some purple Clinique, some make it their own, we’re all not the same, we go into our own tomorrow’s where I might sell you pizza or you will be given me the naked ladies maybe none of us will be gay like those rumours of Romeo and Romeo who saw himself in the aquarium, a perfect illusion, a same and a different man.

Here sexuality is not a sin but a pleasure to tickle your feathers and your hairs, a strip of hair is between your legs eventually or you may have it shaved or your balls or anywhere you wish, as explicit and you will pay your applause to the screen and these stripy walls which have the black and white choke not only the sides but the ceiling and the floor you step upon and the curtains a blood red with a dark purple ribbon with it’s sides up to the floor which I shall pull apart as my corset collapses

And seven blonde men look at me

And I’ve got fake eyelashes on with plastic transparent heels and no underwear so I do not turn and they all clap one by one, all with blonde curls and men are in my taste sometimes among all the women which a young lesbian desires.

All are labels.

Bisexuality is the sin and the rule, queer, we should all be queer to make your present cheeks blush as you walk out and you recall all those you kissed and all those who let your fingers dig deeper inside back or front.

Remember you are a star ready t burst and die all the red blood to leak and deour the floor, an autopsy you’ll perform upon yourself for this place to leak, vomit and cease, there is no death, no life and no

I wave my hands

It’s not a wave but rather observation as I stroll, my legs not aching from the high heels, it’s like pain turning into pleasure and I look at the amount of men today, leaning against a table, the hair trying to fall but still sticking to it’s place as I take a cherry left from an alcoholic cocktail and the alcohol stings in my throat as I raise my eyes to look behind all the lipstick and all the people who twirl and the glitter which falls today onto the floor to a man on the top, his room touching the ceiling as I get another cherry before a male waiter takes the glasses and I see him and eventually I see the man as a woman, maybe all is turned into illusion to satisfy the mind and sex, as I see the woman with the hair combed to a side singing, I stand up in a chair, with no drugs involved this place is like an euphoria and orgasm and I look at the masculine female, the plastic ham behind her glittering on a ceramic blue plate and I see myself against the window as if I’d be a child and I could watch her smoke.

I see her with the old microphone, shirt unbuttoned and I peek to try and see her breasts and I want to see her feel our kiss without glass as I see the room scattered with paper and she rolls the movies at seven and I just lean against the wall with the stars scribbled upon in an expensive manner and I end up going towards the staircase to reach her posters scattered upon the walls.

She doesn’t sing but her mouth is open and I look at her, undoing my corset and she keeps her mouth open, her hair slowly falling onto her eyes like a curtain, I restrict myself and just loosen up my corset instead.

The woman looks down at all the six other blonde men below, being one of the newcomers who find interest in the room, has a need and the woman lights a cigarette, takes out some money and slams it upon the table behind me and fiercely sticks her hand into my underwear as I moan, she bites my neck, making me thrust against her hand as she undoes her pants, licking my neck.

“Scream Margaret.” She asks her eyes blue as she tears my underwear and kisses me softly, spreading my legs and groping my body, undoing her pants and a strap on being on her she slides in, the odd purple colour on her and she turns on the vibration, moaning, sweat forming on the woman who asked me to call her Margaret and she fucks me hard, I keep moaning, watching the crowd glitter upon the floor as it changes to black and white stripes and eventually I and Margaret come and I scream the name a few times before she removes the strap on and presses her clit against my own, taking all of her clothes and cutting my corset open with her fingers as I observe the rings on her fingers gasping louder as her tongue goes in me.

I observe her rather large breasts which I didn’t notice from the tight clothing and I pull her head with my legs, stroking her hair and smashing myself against her mouth until she sits up, licks her lips and fingers me again before positioning herself against me, scissoring and she screams, sweat becoming water as she cannot hold herself, maybe it’s her first time with a woman I think as I watch her come and I come after her, pulling her by the arm and she falls on me, kissing my neck’s skin all over and stopping to lie there for an hour, I don’t ask anything, I just timidly stroke her hair as I watch the purple dildo vibrate.

It’s about kissing briefly when you don’t know where you’re headed and in the end the woman who asked for Margaret stands up, a bit of sweat still covering her back and she slams the curtains closed not to see the bar and the new people and the six men lean their head down and she sits back on the table where we just fucked and I look at her as if I would see her sleeping on her job, eyes both closed but wide open from all the hair even if no longer combed as if I could’ve been on  bus which had the back doors open as venders would walk in and sell fruits and walk out before the colours on the traffic lights would change and the woman would stand up, carefully fix the dark blue fabric and in the need of a smoke exhale and I would go back out to the city with some gold spread out but not on the people to never have fear upon their throats even if we all know something will split open.

Margaret lights a cigarette, watching the smoke instead of exhaling and catching the smoke with her bare lips, her legs crossed and I look at how her skin resembles a ripe peach colour and she raises her head as high as she can and blows a smoke ring as if it would fall and suffocate her to leave death upon my bed and under my nails for spiders to crawl in so that I would scream.

“Why do you have short hair?” I ask her all of a sudden watching her trying to see if her hair is in place and then she just looks down.

“What? Is it wrong to have hair like a man because I am a woman?” Margaret asks pointing down briefly towards the floor and her body, her head still up with blue eyes piercing me with a glare so I just stop briefly, repeating my question despite the rough remark she made.

“I just like it. Sexy.” She stretches out the word and I just nod, it’s not my fault and I just play a bit with my wig.

“Leave and take it.” Margaret says not knowing if I took the money as she opens the curtains and all the men are scattered for the woman to see and she keeps smoking until I leave going down and slowly taking off the wig to see my reflection once I get to the room, my hair nearly shoulder length since the shave and I just lean back, wondering why should all women who are gay look like men instead of looking like women, we are just the same, I’m not saying women who want to look like men shouldn’t, I just find it odd wanting to be a man whilst not being attracted to them as well, what is the meaning for that, although it might be a straight man in a woman’s body and I kept applying powder on once side of my face until half of it covered how pale I looked and the other looked how pale I should be and I blow upon my face, the powder staying and applying the rest to paint the lips for whomever wishes to be next or merely watch, entertain or even doodle whilst carrying a drink.

I sigh, counting the lights again which frame the mirror and the feather smile which hang from the ceiling and some try to form patterns on the floor but the cleaners take them off before I notice and I count once more.

I look at how black the hair seems now, growing as if it were a sin and I see that day again, how I strolled back home through the useless bookstores which charged you double, stuffed with books and alien to customers peeking up from their books and staring as if you had walked into a personal library and they would be shy to ask you what are you doing in their homes and they clung onto the books with claws and all the books are scattered and the dust doesn’t even smell it just clings onto people.

There are also people on the street with their couches turned to the wall and they stare and you just fumble past, I hadn’t touched my hair since I had braided it in the morning and I hadn’t touched it, I just felt it against my face as the movement was resumed.

The night followed by the day, a gay friend of mine pushing me into my first gay bar, past the sparkles splattered on the door and the glitter on the tables from a left over party and the discoball hanging loose and women and men clinging onto their sex there had been a same sex couple making out and I just stood there with alcohol in my hand jealous and my friend for the sake unmentioned we both stood silent, sometimes everything was a sin in everyone’s eyes. I had stared at the brave women with their hands and their hair entangling and I recall that I had seen maybe one of two short haired women which would look a bit like men how I’d been told.

I leaned closer against the table, my back digging into it and the two women, with the light going on and off, each time it went on it was like a flash and the two women kissed me on both cheeks, leaving dark purple lipstick and then traveling to my lips in the next flash before going to the other lesbians and eventually fading in the small crowd leaving me to be like a druggie staring at the bong in front of me or yoghurt can and I just looked at people lighting cigarettes instead, the view of something burning easing me.

Eventually I had left, stopping near the house and trying to clean off the vulgar lipstick and eventually I had even snuck in somewhere and started scrubbing off the makeup even harder up to the point that I had walked up home with a heavy fake blush and I walked into my room, feeling lonely and scared from the first step, pressing my self against the pillow as my brother walked in.

I open my eyes to look at the light and wondering if the mirror reflects the lightbulbs and I tried to catch an angle but couldn’t and sighted my head falling into my arms and soothing like a lollypop.


I couldn't decide where would I end the chapter so basically this is all I've written so far and yeah, I want to write more lesbian fiction so there XD this is what I can do if you request more and please please request the next chapter XD I hope you're as desperate to read more as I am to write more XD

As for the title mica is a mineral which you can leaf quite easily and glimmers and it's latin for chunk and might possibly be latin for shimmer as well as far as I recall:) Yes, I like dictionaries so there XD


I'm off to bed now, I mean it XD


and thank you for the confidence


working mica2

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