Thursday, 31 January 2013

Hell 7

There are awful things which you can see with your own mind and one of the things would be your own death. It doesn’t matter who is dead upon the petals, blood dripping to redden the roses like with a brush, there doesn’t have to be blood.

It’s about taking the trigger and seeing the plastic if it’s you or not. If it’s not you will see your death as if you had pulled the trigger and killed the person.

It’s about the funeral with no colours and cheap flowers and how they lay you to the ground. Death follows giving far blows, about people who you’ve never heard but being described as dead and it comes closer until you can’t give colour to yourself and those you loved.

It should be hard to burn a person with so much water, yet we get a silent killed, what if death were a decease where a person actually rots and we just leave it there to be eaten by worms?

I start seeing worms on my face and I open my mouth to let them crawl me in, I bend my back closer to the floor, legs tripping, I’ve seen dead therefore I am dead. Who knows who were looking at who in the funeral?


Thank you:3 I'd just like to note that there are no more Hell requests coming up, so if you love this story please feel free to request:3 and anything you wish so as well:3


Tuesday, 29 January 2013


It’s more than just a thrust. I feel him, his tongue up my clit and then back into my entrance, slowly, a bit painful until I get used and I gasp, my hips thrusting against his tongue. Alex stops moving his tongue and it’s just me thrusting against his mouth as his fingers slide on my skin.

It wasn’t a dance with both of us in heels, instead its more of tongues here and there from food which had been given to us and washed carrots, legs intertwined and through a few mentions of sex I am on his mouth, my hair tangling in my sweat, his hands sliding up, holding me like a card, playing me, slicing me with his fingers on my nipples and he yanks them forward and I collapse, taking Alex’s cock in my mouth as much as can, it’s the feeling of taking as much rather than gagging, stop right before, lick the tip harder and harder before I go on top of him.

I get out a moan as he goes deeper inside me and I pull myself down to kiss his neck, shoulders, lick his neck as Alex thrusts deeper, it’s a concept.


I'll be very honest, I'm sick of homophobia and so it happened that I had been writing this, I am not against heterosexuality, I am fucking against heteronormativity, please don't be a fucking bigot.

I hope you enjoyed it and yeah, I won't be further taking such requests as I'm starting to find it hard, please don't take it personal, I really love you:3

Thank you


Saturday, 26 January 2013

Hell 6

Sell your flat.

Get some money.

I sat on the street blowing frosty smoke rings, people bringing me cookies from Costa with matching coffee.

I feel like a child of the world as I still have blood under my bones and I can see it running and that I can break it and shatter it, that it can run cold as I sit to people who have homes but pretend to be out in the world.

They read the bible.

I don’t, I just smoke the air one by one, offering coffee to myself and I have as much money as the other fake hobos do.

I don’t take money,

instead I scratch the sin out of my ears.

I want to yank my lip out and a girl watches me, grinning and I run from the bus stop dropping more children with dolls in their hands, running towards the blue as if I would collapse


I'm shamelessly taking the slot for another chapter of Hell:3 I hope you don't mind xD

Feel free to request:3


Friday, 25 January 2013

Hell 5

I think hell will have a guard.

A young woman.

A young child.

A virgin or not is the sexuality in our head.

Thursday, 24 January 2013

Hell 4

I get a severe cut on my chin, going down my bottom lip and I can spread it out, blood not flowing, looking up, playing with the skin, not feeling anything, a mere illusion of the self.

I blame the first fucker on the street.

I scream at him different lyrics from a David Bowie song out of the blue and I strike my fist at him, screaming just my voice, no voice, no sounds, like a war cry, comparing myself to something simple, meat being my evolution, so I jump on him, strangling him, I don’t see his hair, everything is flashing and the corners of my vision are burning.

He gasps.

His chest moves up and I bite him into his shoulder, digging into the flesh, licking the blood off like a bad topping, getting to the muscle. Muscle being our meat, food to feed the rest.

I yank off something out, something attached and his eyes glow, teeth like stars in an abyss. I start massaging his head

I lean back, giving out a burp as I hear sirens sing.

Tuesday, 22 January 2013


The needle goes through my lip and goes back, red fluid dropping down on the silk as the gloved fingers put something in my lips, tilting my head back.

I gasp, fingers going down my throat.

Another needle going through near my lip, another snake bite.

The snake has one tooth.

I see his lace socks, they’re yellow.

I gasp, out of breath, as the needle goes back in, a third time, letting blood thread as it goes out of my shoulder blade, like cobwebs knitting time as I collapse onto him,

Needles go into my mouth, pulling out my tongue, putting a heart as if it were drugs and not free candy for all the blood upon his pale skin, leaving traces of a disease, homosexuality.

He shoves another needle under my lip, yanking me forward, fingers going into my ears, muting out the noise, as he leaves a kiss, needles coming towards him, both coming out as they drop on the floor, no longer in either flesh.


I hope you enjoyed it:3

Tuesday, 15 January 2013

Hell 3

It’s interesting how something so eternal like the sea can freeze over and when you get a pond fish, you get nostalgia of something small.

I think if you bite your nails long enough you’ll get to your own elbow.

Women are weird.

They don’t react to you when you just say hi on the street because of the suicide rates or would be murder and rape? It’s not that I want to penetrate any of them, I just want to say him, just like I spit out water on myself on a warm day.

I look at myself in the mirror, I could shave my head, I could make myself bleed, I could have a migraine, I could have a need for food.

I start massaging my head, my tongue stuck out, my fingers strangling my eyelashes as I watch them fall, autumn again.

Paranoia over essays I’ve never done, just walked through school, met someone, memories give me cigarettes and pink sparkly lighters given over by women who are now girls. What if all are born little women with novels in hand and after penetration they turn into girls chatting away. I’m not sure I like women sometimes, they can cheat on you.

Friday, 4 January 2013

Hell 2

We can’t all have the same hell as we do not leave the same world. Some people enjoy pain, what if someone’s heaven and hell trade places. I’ve never tried BDSM but there would be people whose hell would be another heaven and maybe they could gamble to trade with a few women to swing by?

My hell, let’s try to make it less personal.

I had a book.

I was told by a book to waken and my house, my bed seemed as comfy only with clothes lying on the floor in a triangle.

I wanted to light a cigarette but instead my legs went down, my arms up, quickly changing the stubble which didn’t grow but blood which was on the chin. Maybe I had shaved at five am and then slept in my blood like a kid who wakens to find a tooth in the mouth but no tooth fairy. Why couldn’t the fucking fairy yank it from us, why not yank all the teeth.

I open my mouth and try all my teeth one by one with all the fingers, none loosen like in dreams. The curtains are torn and black. I tilt my head.

Would my hell be school without going into details? Maybe someone’s hell would be school, a uniform and a buzzcut, one eye and a ruler to scratch words on the table like strangers with a girl sitting opposite, legs wide open like the world of pornography to one at a young age. When you don’t know what is sex but you presume it should be legs, maybe that’s where one’s fetish comes from.


Let’s start smoking.

Buy a box.

I have to

Brush my teeth

You too, man, brush your teeth. Floss the leftover toffee in the bottom.

Put on a shirt.

Looks good.

People are chubby all of a sudden on the streets and the small store has a bloke. I just grab the cigarettes, no need to describe all the trees you see, you can just take a sample. Know your fiction.

I take a fag out.

Light it.

A girl kicks a balloon.

Then she sticks it into her mouth. The balloon burst and the girl suffocates.

Hell is a reflection of your memories. I had seen a girl die before or maybe just now.

No one picks her up for days until she becomes a flower just to die again, maybe that’s why we give them to women.

Hell would be hunger if I like the simple pleasure with the bagels used as bracelets and used as handcuffs with the mouth torn out, nothing to consume and nothing is placed on the skin and not even the scent or look of food is given, just numbers and all lines leading to nowhere, giving me a scent of never ending lines even if all comes back to you.

You are the centre for yourself, just stay there.

I yank a tooth out and I place it in front of the school girl.

Blood makes cobwebs on my fingers of worry as fingers make wings.


The fiction reference is actually from one of my two favourite russian novels, Fathers and Sons by Turgenev. If you ever get the chance read it, I'll be honest I just read the love line but I have this whole thing with loving how a character transforms during the novel like Mark Renton in Trainspotting, Alex in Clockwork Orange for instance.

Basically, I'm back, I've been quite exhausted and yeah :D I had a wonderful New Year and Christmas and I hope you had as well:)

Please feel free to request and there are a few Hell chapters ahead in the list yay XD

Hope you enjoyed it:3

Thank you