Tuesday, 16 February 2010

Another Unfinished Piece of Fiction

I waited for 1000 years, I counted precisely 1000 years, 3 months, and 6 days. And now I have lost my mind, but I'm still alive as you are alive in your skin. And I'm trying to be mental, my face stretched open my eyes, pulled skin open and explode – pieces of me disperse into the air. I feel like a nail presses against my skull into a vein, a nerve, the brain himself.

She is being touched. I look at where she is being touched. She laughs and shivels up, looking at me. Where am I? Holding back a laugh, face touches his face – she wants to move away. Her hair reaches down to her breasts, my eyes like a robot's eyes scan her face, throat, armpit, scar on arm, and the breasts I dream next to.

The thing is about her is what she never says. I'm looking into her eyes, these light brown walnut-coloured eyes; her eyes say to me: Come and get me if you want me. Get this fool away from me. Go on. Come get me.

Satan is in the background. The red skin is shiny. Black horns protrude from emaciated head of reptilian demeanour. She begins to grin and she has no soul. She kisses him and imagines the rest of the night. I try not to think too far ahead. Her fox-like mouth laughs at me now. Why aren't you on me?

She is in love with her body. So am I – hers no mine. I can see how her hair touches naked shoulder and spikes of wool. Eyes closed, she screams the song. One strap has falled carelessly off her left shoulder. She thinks she looks beautiful. Too bad for her. With a body like that she could have the entire male population of the country.

And all that ever derides her, the skeleton claws at her back, then the three cans of Carlsberg left untouched on the counter. Buttoned up, she grins and pulls her tongue out, arousing every man in the room; her horns stick up like red arched torsos.

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