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Speechless

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13 is an Utopia now available!

13 is an Utopia, a book from concrete graspTHEsanity pixels

First ever publication, so yeah shock/hyper/50 followers morning shock also on, 51 currently

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Mouthful

“Show me the stars.”
I’d laugh.
I’d point, as if they weren’t there, all of the shining, glimmering, breaking out from the thick black waters reaching out for the surface but never reaching it, never cutting my fingers with their rough, sharp and pointy edges.
I’d be taken into my parent’s arms as I’d try to grasp them.
They all shined differently up to the point that I gave them names. But I was pointed out that they already had names.
“All of them?”
“All.”
It held no sense, did it? How come? How come they all had their names when no one pays attention when I’d mention their glow, their shape, their colours.
I’d get laughed at.
How come stars have colours?
They’re plain, stupid, small and don’t shine bright.
Oh, but they had. All of them with their own glow which wouldn’t collide with their name. All of them had their taste as well.
The stars were going out.
But they ignored it, going faster, stronger, budging everything aside.
Apple.
Faster, more crowds, more buildings, more conflict, more intrigue.
Mango.
How can the stars be so sharp that they cut your tongue? Letting blood flow, creating a red meteor shower over the sky, as the crowd would open their mouth, as if to grasp each falling stone. Everyone grabbing, their mouths gasping, shouting as they’d fall into their mouths, closing their eyes, shouting where the stars had gone.

Mother

Papercut. Chapter 25

I stare dumbly into the mirror, my reflection, as I cut my cheek with a razor, my hair all there, as I am clean shaved, as I see my teeth stick out where my cheek should be. I cut a square out of my flesh.

Can I call it a heart and give it to you?

Because I am too vain, to give my life for yours.

A bitter taste stuck in my tongue. I wanted it to wear off, like never. I opened my eyes to see buildings pass, to see streets pass, as I feel numbness, hit me with ease, as it strokes my cheek, it's invisibility in front of me. Can I tear myself? The scarf is wrapped around my neck. Macy's legs around my neck, as she laughs slightly, eyes locked on Devyn's. I could see her fingers trail past my jaw line, pulling me closer into a kiss, a past I once gave to have her lick it off, sitting in front of me, naked and licking it until a mere wooden stick was left, which she bites in half.

When you're not to be like that, you don't want it, you get it in your throat and you swallow the black thing.

I never wanted to scowl on some dreadful girlfriend, like Roman did, as he held her like some golden belief.

And here I was.

“Roman, you ok?” A flash of red hair stands above me, her hands on her knees, her voice heard from above like an angel, but I see deep green instead of light blue. I see dark hair instead of scarlet. I look above her realization a flashlight into my hair, I pull her close to me with one Converse off and the other tied tightly. I have been here forever.

I blink in confusion, seeing her appear in that short skirt now Macy's Kayleen in a wig, a cig between her lips, as I want her to choke, just for her to close the eyes.

She was the only one who called me differently, who actually tried to cope with me unlike Lola who seemed disgusted by the fact that I existed.

Exile the soul.

Stop.

Now I calmed myself like Roman.

Maybe because I was me, once, was I Roman?

Had I merely lost control, that I tell myself that I am watching from inside as the dream goes on?

"I met Macy today." I tell Kayleen, as she sits in the chair, a pair of fake glasses jumping off her nose.

"Oh really?" She asks, nose in the book, as the letters scatter and I want to touch her, kiss her neck, lick it, press her against me, as she'd tell me and I'd listen what happened to me, because she saw it all, but not now, so I hold her eyes closed, lean lower and tell her.

“I met my ex today.” Does she hold jealousy in a jar? Release it, love. I want to breathe it, I want to know you care, because I follow the book, because when I didn't, nothing went right. Then I watch her carefully, trying to find the lightest reaction but the second I could have caught it would be gone by my sudden attraction to my shoelace, which just winked at me.

But then isn’t that wonderful that we blur out things in an unprepared moment, just like that? Isn’t the surprise a gift? That sudden pull in you, as you breathe in water and you suffocate, as water is replaced by something everyone exhales, fragments of a lost life.

"Smoke. Brilliant. Macy." I can't say anything, as they shatter and I wonder what's stopping Kayleen.

“She still smokes, well, she always did. Looks brilliant, actually. But I guess time passed, so basically… ah, screw it.” She looks at me, the meat of gossip, get the fork and sink it in my stomach, as I mention Macy's engagement as she did it all over, the veil upon her face soon to be for the mockery, to cut herself open, to show how much can a suicide and a stolen pearl be the culprit of the rotten insides.

“24?” She asks wondering, Macy's age upon the walls, tear it off, bite it off, lick it off, be with me, Macy, stop stop stop stop stop it, I chant as I were the five years.

"The scarf was given by Macy, not Lola." I say, but then I look at Kayleen, who has been told the opposite by Roman, even if she plays the role of both.

I see him pressing his slim body against the wall I cannot see.

I pin him against the wall, eyes locked, as I feel my own turning olive, as we stare, we've never been this close, a breath shared, as I wonder what should we do, as I am the one pinned by my own vessel, seeing Kayleen watch us amazed, like a TV show with no talk show host, just the guest stars. She sits down picking up a big bowl of popcorn. She chews it slightly as her eyes light up as kid yells at me, grabbing me by the scarf, an identical of what he wears.

He can't scream, it's like masturbation, only it hurts.

“He had a lover, Rome.” I see Melvin pop up, an arm around Jill’s shoulders and then he grabs her chin crashing his lips against the blonde’s.

You cheated on Lola?

“Roman?”

Roman?

Roman?

-

I raise my head to see the streets passing by. I was dreaming. I never told her anything, nothing about my ex and let it be like that. I want to let that memory form me but not my future relationships, enough. Then, I chew on the tip, desperate to light it but not pay anything for smoking in public areas. I look down, observing, noticing, staring at people pass by, stop, go inside the bus. All so unfamiliar, all so un noticeable, all unwanted for me.

Then my eyes stop on a blonde haired girl, as she looks up, one fingers pressed against her bottom lip.

Once the past explodes on you, everything will, as it falls in chunks which you have to pick up for money and chew until you immerse into the plasticine you created, love.

Lola.

Lola is here.

-

It’s more like a petal between the lips, the rest of the flower falling, its petal’s scatterings picked up, as it is thrown on the street with no lights, just the feet glow.

I look down trying to realize how I’m I here.

Am I the petal in the mouth, which hangs upon the sky?

Am I the nude flower without petals?

Am I the scattered petals? All of them symbolizing me. But then wouldn’t there be just two petals then? Twin ones, corrupted by nature, having one end instead of two, glued together, one gasping the lack of water the other feeding off like a parasite.

I look up and see the girl with her doll big eyes, her lips a cherry rose, pale skin, dark hair falling on her cheeks. Needle her face, as her cheeks should be

My cheek.

Then I realize that I won’t deal with a triple personality and turn my head around searching for Roman, Norman.

Who I’m I?

I mouth that to the girl, as she nods towards her eyes which reflect.

I see nothing.

Chapter 26

Photo Booth Fanfiction

Kiss me with such intense banality
As I'd lay
Smoke filling up the room
It's just once
As it's seen
Nose touch
The feeling inside
As you'd look around
I'd laugh it off
Let's do it in photo booth
No photo confirming
The brush
As I yanked your chin
Towards my own
Were you the girl who slapped
As I leaned again
Not knowing
That the more brief it was
The more the audience would've grasped
As you'd lean
Eyes locked
There is no excuse
As you ruffle the back of my head
Raise my hair above
Kiss the back of my neck
Go down
I don't care
It won't be brief
And the flash will get it all

-

Request more Jack/Alison poetry in the comment section below.

Papercut. Chapter 24

That’s… interesting.

“Who the fuck are you?” I want to yell, but my voice is gone and it’s more of a groan. I blink, thoughts of his still crowding my head, all jumping up and down, so excited, as if they are tied up or rather he is with Lola or some other girl, only here's a blindfold to pretend or maybe just his scarf, a party as the confetti falls and a big sign holds letters, which seem too bright and begin slowly, as I watch the clouds go by and that old lady gasp at my curse. I sit, cracking my neck a little, realizing that falling down caused a light pain in my neck. Oh, screw it.

“Jesus, you have a nice cig, gran? Marlboro?” I give out a toothy grin, searching my pockets. Of course Mr. Goody two shoes kid threw out my pack and my lighter. I go deeper into my jacket pocket. A lighter, thank you, kid. I laugh lightly, my laugh turning out hysterical as I watch the flame burn the oxygen, maybe if I’ll burn enough a hole outside, burning a hole in reality and there I'd dance, I’ll make the city suffocate as I dance in the smoke, gasp for their last breath, light leaving their greedy eyes.

Oh, is that my bus. I keep flicking my lighter as I sit on the bus, twirling the black plastic. I look around the massive bus making a guess who might be a Marlboro smoker. I go up and down the bus and even check the upper floor. I loosen up my scarf even feel a need to throw it and put something more classy around my neck like a tie?

I like ties.

I like Docs.

I’m neutral to dyed blonde hair, Converse and scarves, unlike kid here. I walk on, chewing on my bottom lip feeling a rough need to inhale and feel the bitter taste, a kiss from smoke itself, the eyes light blue. I'd inhale cancer.

The taste I lick, eyes closed and holding the dot inside, it felt like holding a paperknife above my head as I aim for the paper, cut it, feel it tear, cut the table in half, bite it, touch it, earn a papercut, as the bones of the paper slide upon the arm. It's still the same flesh, as the fluids flow, but it just shows the insides, what's stashed inside.

She's there.

Teenage.

Eyelashes upon the cheeks, hair dark a few remains of highlights upon the blonde hair, bright lipstick, over twenty.

“Do you have a cig, love?” I kiss her, briefly, capturing her lips, I think I feel her thread her fingers in my dyed hair. I open my mouth, tongue in, tongue out. That's it, as I lean back and her light eyes fixed on the olive I'm given, as she takes out one long white cigarette, not saying anything, maybe she's back for a brief second.

“Thanks, darling.” And I lean back, tasting the bitter taste, now exploring my own mouth instead of someone else's. Nicotine. I feel it mixed with blackberry, as usual. I stand up, pat her head and yank a side of my scarf feeling an urge to give it back to her. I stop her, as she realizes who I’m I. Then Macy looks at me in shock, but then she knew, as my hair roots are seen, so is the scar upon the sleeve.

“No, he doesn’t know. Pity, ain’t it? Nice seeing you. G’bye.” I wave at her and put the cig between my teeth. Panic. She stares at me, her eyes wide, mostly her eyes looking at my blonde hair. Of course it was kid’s idea, does anybody even ask me? I see her mouth wide trying to cope with what she was seeing. Then her eyes stop on the dreadful scarf.

“Yes, he wears it every fucking day. Sad, ain’t it, love?” I lean again, to find surprise plastered on her face, I want to lick it off. Tension. She tries to pull back, but doesn’t hair falling on her eyes. I brush it out of her eyes, wanting to feel more of her bitter blackberry taste. I look down, drowning, the water above overwhelming me and then I look up, placing a finger on her lips. I adored her. I loved the light blue, the light brown hair with different highlights depended on fashion, was it dyed as I see the black roots? “Wearing, but not knowing from who is it. Sad, so fucking sad, so fucking tragic."

"Lola, he actually said that Lola gave it to him."

Who said it, but we both nod.

I smirk at the past, brushing my lips against her cheek. I feel her shiver, as I return my cig to its previous location, my lips.

“Get out.” Her voice crooks, a shadow crosses over her face, as she tilts her head back, her arms spread on the top of her seat. She crosses her legs, a grin spreading on her face, some memory and then it fades. Macy's just like I remember her. With a quick reaction and my own slow one she grabs the cigarette from my lips, stands up, flicks her lighter, near the tip, never burning, she inhales nothing.

“Nice meeting you.” I smile at her, pulling one leg to my chest. She gives out a snort, chewing her cig tip. She shakes her head, laughing lightly, not tearing her eyes off me, fascinated, seeing everything she saw.

“Why blonde?”

“Kid.”

“Oh. Say hi to him.” Then she pulls on headphones which I failed to notice before and heads down the bus stairs not looking back. But after a quick minute of hesitation she heads back up, her cig now in her fingers. Macy stands there, she knows and the words won't come, but she says it anyway. "It happened."

“I know.” I exhale, watching her, as I rub one eye, my left one. She wants to say something, as I watch her higher, hair with a fringe covering one eye, black tights, black boots, designer skirt and everything looking straight from a catalogue. “I broke up with Lola, y’know.”

“Pity. But she was annoying. Oh, so annoying. How could you stand her? I'd honestly stab her." Then her voice breaks, she closes eyes for a brief second, she looks older only her skin never touched. "Oh, kid, too, right? I loved Ro-“

“I know.” I cut her off, not wanting to hear her verdict, how Roman changed her life gave her a brief fascinating replacement, even when the actor was all there ever was, how I was the one who took the gift, never telling the kid anything, what a bastard I was. I watch her, feeling a familiar feeling like the one I felt towards Lola. “Anything else? Give me a fucking cig, ok?”

“Fine. Choke on it.” She snaps, no nostalgia coming from me, pulling the one out of her mouth and nearly shoving it into my throat, eyes locked, mimicking a gaze I had above once. Then she turns around on her heel. Her eye glaring at me, showing everything opposite of what she ever felt towards Roman and something she always showed. “He’ll get rid of you. You know that, don’t you, Norman?”

Then I stand up and grab her by her designer’s shirt hem. I press her against the bus walls, it feels like a stage, as she once talked, it was dark, eyes closed about a certain dark haired actor who was devoted to his job, as he had died in her arms, how she looked around, a person taking his life away, all the words so mixed that mouthing came out, as she looked above. I wondered if Macy loved me then, as I kept counting the dividing years and I had kissed her once for the first time, no other first time ever given.

I want break her into the glass, the shards building up a new body, as it devours the blood, mouth open, as I'd close the eyes and then I'd kiss her, like she once kissed a dead Devyn. She blinks calmly, as she takes my hands and pulls them down, releasing herself from my grip, kisses my palms, both eyes now revealed.

I raise my hands, cupping her cheeks.

"I wanted to get rid of him, you know that. I thought that, that." I can't go on, as she nods, the actor, not even Roman in her head, as she looks transparent, the stars in her mind, but then I've seen her grab Roman and crushing his body agains hers, as he had cheated on Lola with Macy in his own thoughts or in my own, just given.

“It never occurred to you, did it?” She shakes her head, trying to avoid my gaze. “That I adored you? That you were the reason that I wanted to get rid of him so badly, you never thought of that, did you?”

But then she smirks, a hysterical laugh coming out of her lips, as she removes my hands, softening her gaze, but a smirk still printed on her face. She shakes her head, stroking my hair.

“It’s over, Norman.” But I cut her off.

“It is. You’re engaged, even if you look like a nine year old girl in her mother’s make-up. I have someone I love and will you please stop calling me, Norman?” My voice cracks at the end of the sentence. She stares at me surprised and with curiosity. But then she nods.

“I’m leaving anyway. Honeymoon. Wear you scarf with pride, Norman.” She says my name to irritate me some more, but not in a mocking way, she presses her forehead against my own, opens her eyes. "I thought you'd be Devyn."

Then she heads off, not turning as she stops.

“Maybe, I just never wanted to show it, Norman. Have a nice life. She’s lucky, screw kid if he doesn’t like her.” Macy doesn't say that, she just heads off, hands in pockets. She exhales as she walks slowly, into the future away from her past.

I return to my seat. I close my eyes not to watch my gaze devour her, as disappears into the crowd of my life, I never was in the crowd. I hug myself, digging my nose into the scarf fabric, ignoring her scent which would linger there for a while. I reopen my eyes to close them as I thought of a certain redhead which was a billion times better than my ex. The current is always better than the ex.

Chapter 25

Nation

Choose your muse
From a plastic cardboard box
Rip the ribbon
Do you have anything behind those eyes
And those you'll look in
The word coming from your mouth
As no topics are held by the nation
Will you throw that muse away
Who'll read endless articles about pain
She had imagined herself
As you'd simply
Devour

-

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