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



  1. you are such an inspiration to me. your writing is incredible, you have such a unique way with words. thank you.