a fic so long in the making i forgot about it three times. it was started a merry eve where i compusively wrote while i was still in the middle of reading Lolita and was desperate for something to write. There's prolly some Clover influences...I dont own the characters. Comments and critique greatly appreciated. I know the punctuation is off. There's a point to it, i just havent figured it out yet.
Inside-outside-up-then-down-out the door-open air-underground aaaaand Stop. Turn around, see the stairs? See the row of doors in Yami's head? That maze of hidden thoughts? In a red red room melting and humid, rotting slowly away in the heat as despair moves in to speed the decay, the thoughts locked in there begin to disappear. The room itself pulsates, throbbing in dulled pain that recedes as the room does from existance. Words swirl in the air being tossed from gummy wall to wall as they descend to the ground where they, too, will dissapear. A sound like a heat beart, a grown man's heart with the potential to beat strong, pounds. A sound that would defen.
Beat. Love, I'd love. To Beat. Want you. Need. To Beat. Make you mine I. Want Beat For you to let me. In Beat. Open the gates and I. Will Beat. Stick to you. Open Beat. The gates so I. Can Beat. Stick to you.
sticky sticky candy sweet, coating the tongue, staining the teeth, rolling in the hot 97 degree mouth of yours, enticing, teasing, luring cherry red just like my eyes used to be.
my nymphet. a man before me coined that phrase - sir Humbert Humbert I think it was - in a good book called lolita. this man cared for a child, just a child, well many a child, but his Dolores - lolita, most of all. For her he cared most of all. And she teased as you tease and she would smile as you smile and sit on his lap as you sometimes sit on mine.
Humbert - good man - used his term for young girls, preadolescents for the most part, who wore sunny smiles and dimples in their cheeks and sometimes cheerful little curls. You, aibou, have smiles but no dimples, you are cheerful but uncurled. And male, aibou. A boy of spirit, a young man of age and as much a piece of me as I am of you and it is for this reason we can't. we'll never. I can't. I'll never...
That lollypop stains your lips cherry, the colour of lipsticks but the look of ripe fruit. I'd love to pluck, love to pick, love to taste, love those sweet forbidden cherry fruits before they fall. The mind of this dark and devlish Humbert, the heart, the body, this part of his soul would love to taint you redder than red. He would love to be with you, this stricken devil Humbert.
Just like a little Eve to my serpent. You have playmates more like you, to play your child's games of simple prizes, simple rules, simple endings. Only natural you'd get tired of your old Humbert Yami who just cant seem to learn new tricks and play nice. Who associates every chess game with a battle, sees snakes and ladders as social Darwinism in action, interprets every roll of dice to be the determiner of how many last breaths you are allowed before Death - dear brother you've forsaken me - comes to carry the soul.
outside the Gates of Eden and I don't know what to say. just a
lowly snake who's lived through so many many days.
he's old enough to know what he may not and what he may. he
knows. no matter what he tells, you'll still give the apple away.
i'd like to snuff your light out in me. swallow you up whole. trecherous. They'd think, they'd stare, they'd say. We look so much alike. Like brothers somehow. If I kissed you. trecherous trecherous. They'd think, they'd gawk, they'd talk, they'd shame. They'd bring shame upon you, which you do not deserve. I do not want you jeered at, you're too good. Too young. So young. So easily led off the pure light paths your skin looks so soft in. 'Would you mind if I -'..such trecherous thoughts. I say, I know, the other parts of me have realised and they have seeked, they have found, they now destroy.
no room for Love in the head. I'm dangerous. I was born out of time. I must be destroyed in time. To save the rest.
say the rest : you know, no matter what you tell him, he'll still give the apple away. so stop living, stop loving, you're unnecessary. leave the survival to those who can do it best. you're damned snake. no use trying to break the Gates of Eden...
And the thoughts lie hidden in the maze profound, where the bad is expelled from the mind. In a red red room stinking of death and regret, words bounce from gummy wall to wall, screaming in anguish, falling on deaf ears, falling unacknowledged. Its eyes are steaming, dripping away. The last sight it sees is its love with a lollypop it suggested to buy. His lips are so red, but no one else cares. And the room beats a sound like a heat beart, saying so much with each blood beat, saying so much less with each blood beat. A grown man's heart gummed up and fading. A sound that would defen if there were any ears.
Beat. I wish. Beat. I wish. Beat. To Love...Beat. Beat. Beat...
So exit the doors, step away from the stairs, surface in the open air and stop. See there? The burial ground.