Cleavage 2

I don't know how right Chuck Barris really was. In this day and age most people's dreams and hopes wouldn't go as high as obtaining the damn refrigerator so in fact the show would only end when the greed filled their sick little minds and they'd just start shooting each..

"Watch out!!"

Fucking colourblind wanker. RED!! It's red!!
Are you late for your asshole appointment?! What and you still have to go by the idiot shop to get a stupidity refill?!

Anyway, they'd just end up shooting each other for the god damn fridge.

I wonder if people actually had all those things they think are the vessels to happiness they would finally be forced to confront their true life dilemmas. If all their shallow material cravings were satiated would they focus on truly important issues? Probably not. They would just go all Kurt Cobain on their own arses. Fucking losers.

Look at that.

"..like, I'm just saying maybe we should be careful and shit with how we talk to him and I was like, fuck you, who are you to tell me what to do? You know? Total bitch.. Who does she think she is?"

"Yeah I never really liked her."

"Mind her own business, little bitch. You know? We should like, do some.."

Blah blah blah teenage wasteland. I guess we're at a stage where it's twenteen and even thirtyteen sometimes.

Ah and of course..

"Tap tap tap.. haha!!"

"Haha you want to tap that?"

"Haha.."

Depressing little humanoids.

Oh, I should go shopping. I've nothing to cook. I should cook more often. Or just eat a massive McCoronary Thrombosis and get it over with. I'd waste less time. Less time thinking. Less time depressing. Less time hating everyone. Hating me most of the time. Less time dreaming about a great future, with meaning. One more time with feeling. Ha..

It's just little changes. The smallest ones. The ones you know will get you on track. But you're just focused on that finishing line. The damn clouds. You can't jump from here. You have to go step after step after step after step after step. That's the only way to get there. But those first steps seem so unimportant, so meaningless that you can not gather the right amount of will power to just do it! Fuck, just do it! Get on track!

Oh fuck it.

"Evening. Yeah, just the large fries."

"No pizza boss?"

"Yeah you know what.. Three slices."

Cleavage

Today is hell. Everyone's so giddy, delighted with the weather. This ability to find joy in the simplest things is both our hope and doom. Makes life a bit more bearable and turns our head away from the big infinite tragedy. Even while slowly climbing down to the abyss we manage to stop and smell the flowers.

"It's a great day hm? I might be going for a walk or something. I don't really have anything to do you know?"

So obvious aren't you? I find myself despising your ignorance. Your bursting breasts sicken me. Me admiring them sickens me the most. How pathetic you are. I've overlooked your existence ever since the first day I met you. So why would you be even slightly more hopeful today? Do you think it's your sex that will blossom in me a longing for you and your dull ways?

"Yeah, you should. It's a nice day for walking."

Go, go, go.

"Right, yeah, I mean, you wanna come? We could go and drink something. Somewhere."

Maybe if I ignore her she'll go away. It works with small children. And dogs.

"Or maybe, you know, there's a great terrace in my building. Only I have the key for some reason."

If only your sense of smell was as acute as those of dogs you'd have smelt my indifference. You'd in fact be nauseous by now seeing as I reek of it.

"We could go there and, you know, I could get some drinks and we'd just sit. And talk. Or, you know, whatever we felt like doing."

And then we would fuck each other senseless and you'd cling on me for the rest of my life and I'd feel dirty as dirty can be. Yeah, I get it sugar. Give up.

"It'd be nice, I think."

"Yeah, I don't think that's gonna work. I've got some stuff to do today."

"Oh come on, what stuff? It'd be great, really. I have beer in the fridge and all. We can get some pizza or something."

What are you doing? Yes, I've seen your breasts. Thank you, please remove them from under my nose. And let go of my hand. You little obnoxious creature. Go befriend a shower head or something.

"Yeah, sorry Martha, maybe some other time."

Look how she sulks now. How ridiculous can one person really be I wonder.

"Oh. That's a shame. Ok then. Well, if you change your mind you know where to find me."

"Yeah, definitely."

"Great, see you later then, maybe!"

Oh god, how can you be so impervious to aversion?! For fuck's sake. Who would be hopeful after something like that? Who would leave this conversation with a detestable little giggle and a cutesy whimsy wave of the hand?

Look at her going, so happy, blushing as a row of losers admire her like a fat bastard at a McDonald's factory. Revolting piece of meat. So easy to please. Proud of her nothings. Her cheap thrills. Flaunting her insignificance in tones of pink and yellow. If you were even just slightly aware of how pathetic your existence really is you would need no other instruments or pills because you'd burst yourself in flames right then and there. But you probably would just dismiss it all with a laugh and think I was kidding and come on to me a little bit more. Why do I even care about these flawless excrement specimens? A wasted struggle it seems sometimes. Obliviousness is the easy way indeed.

You.

All of your majesty.

All of your majesty.

All of your majesty.

Now is nothing but loss. Waves of vultures drawing near but always far. And we stand between you and them. But it's no longer you. It's just the cloak, the long beautiful golden vest of kings. Growing colder and colder. Not all the warmth from our blushed cheeks could warm it now. Not all our caresses. Not all our warm tears. We're here just to stop them from devouring you. What is not you. No longer. But still you, the you we can touch and see and cry for. Feel pain and despair. That YOU lies there among the black widows. That YOU is gone.

You live regardless.

Packing

Life has hanged for long before this dream. But I held control over it. I pushed on one side or the other to keep it balancing. Always from side to side. Sometimes a glimpse of moving forward. But I always knew it was a dream inside a dream. Never took me long to gather the hints and make up the truth.

There's no control now. And the dream has faded away as if it never even existed. It was only just slightly burning and I offered my oxygen as fuel for it to grow. To grow back to it's previous glorious shape. But there's no control now for this is not a dream. And life hangs indeed but by a thread. And long have I stood face to face with it and mocked it's fragility. Enjoyed not living for it meant not dying. Deception is the cave I've hidden myself in for years and ever.

Life waltzes in slow motion around me. Around a shape that resembles in some ways a person. What am I besides a. Besides a. I'm a. Just a. Nothing more then a.

nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing

Socks. Boxers. Don't need a razor. My black jumper's dirty with toothpaste. Need to wash that. I need, god what do I need? I need jeans that don't have fucking holes in them. He would laugh at it though. Maybe a button shirt or two. Which jacket? I don't even wear the black one that much. Books, perhaps. I don't know if I'll be in the mood for it. Although, Sartre has always been good at capturing my attention and it would be good to think about something else. Fucking chicken. I don't know. What do you pack for a funeral anyway?

Cause or Consequence

She paused and pondered.

This is foolish. I insist on summoning him and then kick him off of the porch like the disgusting dirty stray dog that he is. I can't ever have anything to do with such a creature. One that creeps about with hunger for misery. Trying to bring ruin upon himself by lying by my ruins.

Her left foot sunk in the screeching boards and she knew there was no escape now. He never needed doorbells. And his existence was one of solitude so it was sure that soon enough his sun wrinkled skin would make an appearance through the living room's window.

What am I doing here? How long until I swerve from this agonizing death circle? I request his presence beneath my feet over and over again. And I slide with him onto this bed of sickness. With him I can be the bug and the squasher. I can't leave now.

Eyes set on the lamp above the front door she waited. Through the glass she could see the dead insects that formed almost a carpet. Soon it would be night and more little flying things would come to wander around the corpses. And they would see the light shine through the bodies of their falling brothers almost making them alive again.

It was too long. By now she should already be in his sickening comforting arms, in his old red couch that reeks of an oddly enough soft smelling combination of beer, sweat, sex and cheese. She kept on balancing her weight on her left foot as if she was a demented violin player detuning his instrument in the silent evening.

Oh, where the hell is he? I'm not going to wait for him. He's the dog not me. How dare he?

She let anger take hold of her. She sought every shred of rage and griped it in her clenched fist, keeping it close to her heart. She was pinching the skin hard so she wouldn't feel the burn. And this burn was a sort of pain that she could not allow to take place. Not inside her. And not because of him or anyone else.

But she kept still. She slowly went to the door. Halted for a second and looked around for witnesses.

Fuck it, I'll just knock. I'm doing him a favor. He'll regret it not being here.

She knocked once quickly as if afraid that the door would suck her in as a black hole. For a moment she smiled internally thinking of those people in movies that can't even wait one second for someone to come open the door before they freak out thinking something might have happened. But then the second was over. And after that many more came raining down but with no answer. She knocked again. Twice this time. Her head bent to try and capture even the slightest disturbance inside the house. Her fingers against the door.

Where are you? I need you. No. You fucking bastard. I need you. Where are you?

She walked away. She would never tell him about this.

I'll never come for him again. Ever. This is goodbye.

The rage was dissolving into sadness. Quiet accepting sadness. And she would be back again.

Every D Day

Cute kid. Crash haha... Crash again, that's it kid, kill the fuckers. GI Joe ain't what it used to be hm? I'm with you on that one. Haha.. Right over his head.

"So are you educating kiddo there to become a truck driving killer machine, big sis?"
"Whatever serial killer aptitudes he might have I'm sure he got them from his uncle."

She looks damn tired. But there's a calmness to it. Don't know how she does it.. Uhh cake..

"Can I?"
"Of course."

Large, not so large, larger than that, yeah that's fine.

"Anyway, I could never do a great serial killer."
"I don't know Carl, you've done a lot of weird girls."
"Ha ha.. Hilarious stuff sis. But that subject actually has a lot to do with it. I was never good with sticking with anything. I'd be on top of a building not knowing whose head I'd like better to see squashed on the pavement."
"Yeah, haha.. Or as soon as you knocked one out, you'd realize her friend was probably a better victim. You'd be the only first stage serial killer. You'd knock them all out, perhaps even strap them to a chair or something and just leave them there."
"Haha good one.."

What.. wait..

"Was that one directed at my sexual life again?"
"Do you have any other life?"

She's joking but I can detect something else. Kid, run her over. This has to be about Dina. Kid, do it now!

"Honey, no running mummy over, you might hurt her. You don't want to hurt mummy do you?"

Do it kid do it! Mental powers act now! Oh darn, that's not fair, give him back his truck..

"Are you pissed because I had a thing with Dina?"
"And by thing you mean sex."

Oh fuck it, I knew it. I knew it.

"It was a pretty shitty thing to do. You knew she had a lot going on."
"Hold on hold on. It's like you're saying I took advantage."
"You know what I'm saying. You're not stupid. You know perfectly well the last thing she needed was a night of affection with someone like you."
"That's nice."
"You know what I mean."

Yeah yeah, you're Miss perfect and I'm Mister fuck up. Don't really know what I'm doing with my life and all that bullshit.

"Look, I didn't go after her. She came to me."
"Oh come on Carl. You know perfectly well what you do when you do what you do."

Oh for fuck's sake. She wanted to get laid and so she did, big fucking deal.

"Are you flirting with me big sis?"

Oh great lord of tomfoolery.. hit it.. hit it.. come on.. chuckle..

"Are you getting uncomfortable now?"
"What? No come on, it was just a joke."
"Right. Whatever, it's your life, just try and be more aware that your life actually coincides with other peoples lives at some point."

Blah blah blah.. Always the same shit. I'm just a selfish over grown infant and all that jazz. I don't even know why I came here today in the first place. Cake is good though. I must be a fucking masochist. Yeah, just helped fucking up her friend's mind (and not only) a little further so why not go see if it really landed. Fucking silence. What was I suppose to do? In fact, if I had said no, then it would just add up to yet another rejection in Dina's life. Another failure. Why don't you see it that way sis? Hm? Fuck.. I really must love these trips down guilt road. Fucking silence.

"Right, I'm gonna go then."
"Okay Carl, thanks for the visit."
"Yeah, sure. Take care. My regards to Richard"
"I'll tell him. Maybe you can come next weekend and have dinner with us."

Right..

"Hm, definitely, I'll see if I'm free and give you a ring."
"Okay then little brother, fare thee well."
"Yeah, bye sis. Bye there little man."

Poor kid. Fucked up species you've chosen to try and make your way into this world. You should have tried being a Panda. At least you'd get dumb humans feeding you and even getting you laid all the time. None of this bullshit.

Damn, it got cold. I'm still walking home though. Dry cold versus sweaty hot bus is a no contest.

Sarah, Sarah, Sarah.. First her friends, then her brother. Always the same. Why is it that the longer people know you, the less they seem to worry about you? She assumes so much. Yeah I just fucked her and that's it. It's what I've always done. It's what I am. What if I like her? What if I'm in a rut myself? What if a thousand other reasons? Yeah, that just fits in with Carl's usual behavior. Ever considered asking me how I'm doing? People grow old and all they start caring about is what you did or not do. They don't ponder about the whys anymore. We get so fucking pragmatic. Yeah, he fucked her and then ran for his life the next morning cause you know, that's what he is. He is his facts. Oh bullshit. When we're teens all we care about is the reason. And we come up with so many. The ever believers. Oh there must be a reason for him to treat me like shit. Oh yeah she did fuck my brother but I'm sure she was just having troubles dealing with my virility. Ha.. And then we turn into these cynic machines, we pass judgment so quickly. As cruel as children can be.

Quotidian

Hello, how're things, bye. Hello, how're things, bye. Hello, how're things, bye.

Hello. CHECK
How're things. CHECK
Bye. CHECK

The mandatory pleasantries set in as things are forgiven but never forgotten. We feel it's almost as a contractual obligation due to all that was left behind. But it wasn't buried deep enough. We can still smell it but no word is spoken about it. Suck it in! It's always there, contaminating. Like the ruins of an old house that were never completely removed and the land on which it stands knows nothing more than what before was erected above it. We're sat awkwardly on the leftovers of yesterdays. As two stubborn donkeys consumed by guilt, feeling we owe it to one another.

There are no foundations anymore. It's all a wreckage. The ship crashed into the rocks finally after years of sailing in the dark. And now what to do?

I tell you it's all wasted. The few pieces of wood that still remain down by the rocks were all bent and shaped for that ship only. They're all impregnated by the waters that we sailed together and that's why we can't even watch them burn.

All that's left is walking away from the wreck.