Countless hands blindly reach out to me and I feel as alone as it gets in the middle of a crowded party. They can feel something that they interpret as a raw sex appeal and they want some. I flinch as someone's nails dig deep in my hand leaving red marks and try to escape the trap I am enclosed in. Something is rotten in the kingdom come. Therefore, it's all about poor judgment or lack thereof.

The atmosphere is smothering and it feels like there's a tube from the tailpipe sticking under the door and we all now eagerly breathe in carbon monoxide fume. It sure must be a big truck to fill this big hall and result in enough air compression to explode after it kills everyone inside. The one that gets you smeared on the hot asphalt and drags your guts for another ten miles.

I should have left like ten minutes ago.

I feel someone snatches my phone and I let it go, just like I let go of everything I ever had. I forgive them and all that jazz. I am eyeing the room and reading it like an open book while still trying to shake palms that still are digging into my clothing and my skin. We're all dead here, or some shit. Since the dawn of time, people uttered phrases like this one, wannabe philosophical mumbo jumbo, so it became meaningless. Of course, we are all dead here, in various degrees of being shitfaced and, to be completely honest, you get excited the first hundred times to die from alcohol poisoning or drug overdose. Then it becomes a routine. My eyesight is not as sharp as it was millenia before.

Today I am picking up the fight so someone special can find me faster since my phone is long gone.

I make it appear that I know what's the drill if being completely transparent. They give you an outline with little to no details. The biggest tragedy that ever happened is the glimpse of free will you get from people when you hang out with them for long enough to become a son of man indeed. On my way out, I push a random dude too hard, call him a puff too loud, dodge the blow into my head too slow. There's not much of a fight, the interest sparks like a match and then dies out as if someone pissed at it. It really smells like piss down here and I have to pick myself up.

Come save me, follow the trail of holy blood, idk. Do something, I'm not in a mood. Hit me like one of your Soho girls and we square, — I feel the tension slowly building in the bridge of the nose.

My heart is just another liminal space that he occupies without being noticed most of the time. We meet somewhere in-between and the desolation of previous knowledge is not yet done but already commenced. People  usually call this type of situations a slow burn, a neverending shitshow where someone always fails to complete tasks. I am not good at teamwork these days.

[icon]http://www.fansshare.com/media/content1/550x298_noel-gallagher-and-damon-albarn-working-on-new-projects-together-6597.jpg[/icon][status]et tu, bestie?[/status][char]Иисус[/char][fandom]Christianity[/fandom][lz]better to sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunk Christian[/lz][nick]Jesse Joseph[/nick]

I don't have to double-check the identity of Good Samaritan. I feel you and it aches. Before he manages to say something, I mumble under my breath:

— Don't trust people you meet, they might promise you that the river ain't deep, said in the Holy Scripture, — which is not true, according to the genius dot com, but we ain't here for the Bible study and who's gonna check me? Jesus? Oh, wait. The voice is all low and raspy as if I ran the marathon. Away, away from my problems and responsibilities. You keep finding me and I pretend I'm stupid enough to think we exist on the same ends of the same thin line.

I take the hand pointed at me and squeeze it just like every father taught every young boy. Show 'em your dominance, be a man. Point a gun in their crotch, if needed. Or something... I didn't listen well. In a previous life, I have rejected the temptation and sodded off to the Judaean Desert. This time I drunkenly giggle and lean heavily on him. His breath smells sweet, and his skin is melted gold that leaves pretty marks on my palms. The irony is that all of his kisses taste rotten, and the marks hurt like motherfuckers.

I don't respond because who cares. My place stank with those cheap incense sticks with the scent of asthma and cancer to the core. I had a roommate who also smoked weed and did meth, every now and then. He got stabbed seven times and all I've got is a dirty carmine stain right in the middle of the living room. To die in the living room, what a concept. It's just like that one time when some dude died and returned after three days. Maybe it was a hangover, maybe it's Maybelline. The degree of blasphemy of all of this reaches the heating point of no return. The point is - fuck you and your fucking posh attitude, my place would be just perfect for whatever bullshit we gonna do.

He pushes my wobbly body into the backseat and then rushes me to move. I don't open my eyes, having the most nauseous face I can, just to make a driver glance back at us with a concerned look.

"If he throws up, y'all, I swear to G..." He abruptly shuts up, and I wheeze.

If I start puking, you make a fortune of this holy art object. Is shooting a cat a performance or happening? Depends on who's cleaning the shit up. The night city is vibrating and warm, it's full of sorrows and happy moments. It makes me want to open the door and fall out of the vehicle that just speeded up. I don't do that. I place my palm on Adrian's lap and tighten my grip. Oh, is that 100% cotton? Name each child who died while picking it!

— We should turn back, — I exhale quietly. — I have labrador-sized rats in the basement. You would love it.

The alcohol is wearing off bit by bit. I need to do something about it, or I start doing random miracles. I had a long discussion about it in the office, last time I got stabbed. There's some party miracles I'm still working on. 

— If you get me more booze, I show you a party trick, — his eyes reflect strobe light of the traffic.

I stay silent for the rest of the cab journey and fight the desire to touch the driver's neck and take away all his wickedness with me. I would need that one tonight.

[icon]http://www.fansshare.com/media/content1/550x298_noel-gallagher-and-damon-albarn-working-on-new-projects-together-6597.jpg[/icon][status]et tu, bestie?[/status][char]Иисус[/char][fandom]Christianity[/fandom][lz]better to sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunk Christian[/lz][nick]Jesse Joseph[/nick]

Отредактировано 2D (2021-03-28 10:23:50)

The moment my hair gets soaking wet, I squirm and feel my hands cover with goosebumps. The tiny sound of water getting into my nostrils and wheeze of air out of my lungs reminds me of seconds before the first bomb dropped in Warsaw. People knew nothing will be the same anymore. It's not the same when white people massacre white people. Another problem is again something we don't want to discuss this night. The muscles roll under the skin between my shoulder blades as I try to stabilize myself.

Don't make a scene. Don't flood everything with a disgusting mass of blood, saliva, torn tissue, and broken teeth. We're far from doing a little twisted role-play when, at some point, the sound of Latin and Greek mixture would fill the walls. That would be the turn-off of the century. I sit there and place my hand into the burning spot he smacked me. I start drifting away, unsure, am I one step away from busting my meat bag and having to find a new one, or am I so good at pretending I forget to offer him another cheek. 

— Wasn't that Tom and Jerry? — I blink stupidly, and my mouth curves into a confused "O". — Oh, my bad.

I live with a stupid amount of credit. Humankind was designed in dad's image, and nepotism was like a small gift only a few could unlock and truly appreciate. Of course, I'm not critical of my cause or mission. Otherwise, I would be on the opposite side of the barricade. Still, all I want to have is an eviction note from the sky-landlord and an e-mail from Heaven that I got fired. A boy can dream.

He makes it not a biggie of, almost Biblical, whatever he's doing, and I ignore it as well. Tomorrow daily papers would be concerned with a small earthquake no one could predict. I look at his eyes again and again. Lick my lips and carefully think about what to do next. However, there's something we should clarify, and all of a sudden I am as sober as one can be.

— Okay, first of all, chill, — the best thing to say to an irritated prodigy who can chew your head off. — Technically, it's a bad taste to hang around kids these days, or any days for that matter.

I take the generously given towel and start drying my hair, feeling how my body gets hot, and blood rushes down the spine. I look at him as if it was his problem, but I need to put a disclaimer, with a heavy sigh: "No, it's not your problem". 

— This leads to the second point, I don't interfere. I can't just show up and save everyone. Also, not my division to argue about interpretations.

Way too much shit were made in my name, and I didn't sign up for that. I can't interfere. People go shot their children in a delirium and say angels told them. I can't do anything about it. Listen, I wish I could. We have this little tango dance again with me trying to find any trace of any emotion I know inside the abyss that stares at me. Here is when I should shut up and listen to his breath. I tense and can't tell for sure, whether next thing I know would be light and nothingness.

— So, no booze for me then?

[icon]http://www.fansshare.com/media/content1/550x298_noel-gallagher-and-damon-albarn-working-on-new-projects-together-6597.jpg[/icon][status]et tu, bestie?[/status][char]Иисус[/char][fandom]Christianity[/fandom][lz]better to sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunk Christian[/lz][nick]Jesse Joseph[/nick]

Отредактировано 2D (2021-03-29 14:41:09)

I forget everything that I want to say to him and try not to smile too eager for this confrontation. We both know what I can do, fo sho, it's ain't how it works. As he unlocks the hold, I am the rag doll that makes a step back and runs into the wall just to slip a little down it. Just like in those arthouse realistic movies. I feel tears blurring my vision and saliva dripping the right corner of my crooked mouth. The rough cough forms in my lungs and comes broken from my throat. I desperately gasp for a gulp of air and the vessel granted me this time for a moment feels a very human thing, the emotion that forms in the brain in response to the physical condition. I start panicking. It feels like he almost snapped my neck and it's impossible to get a big 'ol inhale.

I want to plead: "Do that again," but instead I wheeze:

— Look at what, at the living proof that we have our methods?

Then I feel how I gag and make two more steps before I drop on my knees before the toilet. Oh, he should destroy it afterward, or his ass cheeks get burned. I'm not sure how it works. I should probably bless it. I'm way too busy with convulsing like a cat that needs to get rid of a furball I process everything that happened within a blink of an eye for a mortal being. I use his sink again to clean my face from spit and foul. My tongue tastes like wormwood and I want to rinse that out. 

Time again slows down, and I just hope he won't leave me here because we're not done yet. I think about all small things. I watched Saint Teresa of Calcutta figuring out that she wasn't on Peter's special list. What a shame. But we don't indulge these things here, it's off the script. I granted some mercy to people who deserved it. Some people were less deserving of it. Isn't that ironic how the father's plan always involves the free will that pisses him off so much? Maybe, Ilya Kaminsky was right when he wrote: At the trial of God, we will ask: why did you allow all this? And the answer will be an echo: why did you allow all this? But we will know that much much later.

I rub my skin and still feel his hands there. We had something like that written down in scriptures and deciphered by people. Where were we?

— Last time I was less subtle, they didn't stop, you know. — I make an unreadable gesture. — Also, you forget something vital, I would say, crucial for this debate.

I am a bit hesitant for a moment. It would be a shame to be torn apart and scattered in the one of the fanciest bathrooms on Manhattan. I come closer to Adrian and enclose him in my arms, brush his shoulder with my shaking and cold palm, enjoy this small moment of calmness before calamity that grows inside of his heart. I hug him and forgive him. I give in. I press my lips to his hot skin in the spot where the masseter muscle is hidden underneath. I open my mouth and tell him very quietly, so no angel or evil spirit can hear it:

— If I show up, how would they tell the difference between us?

It's your job to deceive them, then do it and do it well. I don't say it, it sparks in my mind and dies with the wave of heat that comes from him. Our battle is way ahead and his rush into it makes him almost vulnerable. I still embrace him, breathing in his scent. As exposed as I am, everything here screams murder.

— You look tense. I can fix that.

Whatever that means along with my hands palming his lower back through the layers of clothing. There was always something good in having the luxury of knowing human pleasures. I grant you my mercy and benevolence, and you grant me your wrath and pain. That's how it is supposed to be.  It's inherent for my nature to save. Interpret these signs now.

I again dance a small tango backwards and smile under a heavy gaze.

— I want some water, please.

[icon]http://www.fansshare.com/media/content1/550x298_noel-gallagher-and-damon-albarn-working-on-new-projects-together-6597.jpg[/icon][status]et tu, bestie?[/status][char]Иисус[/char][fandom]Christianity[/fandom][lz]better to sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunk Christian[/lz][nick]Jesse Joseph[/nick]

Отредактировано 2D (2021-04-06 11:10:05)

I let myself watch his face in the mirror, not making eye contact though. I like his face, he's handsome, he's warm and alive. I like him in every form he possibly could take. Maybe, it's in my nature. We are made from the same breath if thinking about it. I don't want to think about it, it would be weird. 

A constructive discussion, if healthy, always involves some levels of physical altercation. I gasp like I didn't foresee it coming. I tell myself, you know, it's never late to call it a day and just let the clusterfuck reach the point Nemo of absurdity. Just like someone can fuck up their homecoming, drunk and angry they didn't achieve shit in their life, and they end up in the hospital, obliterated. The first time I was here, everything went according to plan and there was no wonder. I can say, "Listen, fuck 'em people" and go awry.

How many pagans were burned when they brought Abrahamic religions to once prosperous lands?

I know the thing or two about the pain. There's something pleasurable in being sincere like this. I want to describe it as something beautiful. Something very close but out of reach. Pivotal, even. Everyone has violence blossoming in their heart, I am not an exception to it. But when I feel lost, everything goes by default. I am me regardless of the choices made, that's the biggest catch. I could deny I don't like it and this body responds because it's human to seek pleasure as a way of coping.

I ache my back and try to adjust and still, I want to drink. No one said I can't drink out of the sink while being screwed. No one makes rules and no one watches us, indeed. Sometimes I wonder, how many times the type of "get out of my room, mum" situation happened and no divine messenger brought it up.

— Just, yeah, like that, go on, — I bend over the sink and let the water fill my nose and mouth again. That's more like it.

I am great at multitasking. I focus on the pain and think, how many times he may think (or didn't think at all) about me being a personification of Pulp's "you see I spy for a living and I specialize in revenge." Nothing will change because it's written in ether. Especially lunatic believers love the idea of the Grand Plan not changing. No matter what you do, in the end, it's kinda determined.

— Don't hold back, love. You always ask me if I'm good. I'm better than ever.

That's the basic concept of politeness, for... someone's sake. I grab his neck and pull him closer and kiss everywhere I can reach.

[icon]http://www.fansshare.com/media/content1/550x298_noel-gallagher-and-damon-albarn-working-on-new-projects-together-6597.jpg[/icon][status]et tu, bestie?[/status][char]Иисус[/char][fandom]Christianity[/fandom][lz]better to sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunk Christian[/lz][nick]Jesse Joseph[/nick]