disgustingly human

I often ask myself if all this struggle that we call life it's worthy something or if we are just making fools of ourselves. Mostly I get to one answer. We are so disgustingly human.

We love to hear the words never and forever, breath eternity while we are noting more than a potential handful of ashes.

Maybe I am a pessimist, but that's because I know that optimists are poison. They will always see the good side of life just because they are too superficial to admit things rarely turn out as we would like them to, or because they are too scared to realize that whatever they do, the time will outrun them.

I would like to be able to step on the other side, but that's not my nature.

my foot are too heavy, I am not going to fly. Still I like to see the stunts of those having a light soul. I am not jealous of other people lightness, but I am quite peculiar with my own heaviness. I am not a victim, nor a martyr.

I am a man who chose to live like what he is, he accepted the fear, he welcomed the pain, since that is the only real proof he is alive.

Never. Always.

In my vocabulary they are smaller than a marble.

I will love you forever...what about my forever eventually finishing tomorrow? tell me, my love, does a forever made of one day has the same value of one lasting a million years?

I will love you with all myself. That's what counts to me.

I will love you even when you are mad at me, I will love you even when you are edgy and standoffish, I will love you every day I still have with all the force I have left.

But love is something we can't control, love is something we can't even define.

We gather all the feelings we can't label, we push them together in the name of LOVE, to celebrate ourselves.

I won't let this happen to me. I will not give up the essence to feel better. Whatever it is...affection, lust, interest, attraction, fear...I will feel, I will feel as much as I can.

I will be living for you every minute I have left. You will feel my presence, you will not be allowed to feel lonely.

I will probably fail a thousand times. I will make mistakes and ask for forgiveness. I will try to run away from you. I will beg for your attention or I will deny you mine to let you understand that I have missed you.

I will stand there and watch you even if you are not going to see me or to realize the you are this wave that is crashing on me.

I will stand there and protect you. Forget about myself and live the rest of my life only for you.

My reward will be the taste of your lips, the warmth of your body and the sound of your voice calling out my name.

And that will make it worthy to my eyes because...I am so disgustingly human.

you'll be to me forever sacred...

I look at you while you are sleeping.
I do it every time because when you sleep you are so beautiful.
Sadness, fear and hate disappear from your face and the porcelain of your skin shines in the dimming light of the evening. If you would have told me about this feeling only a few years ago, I would have laughed at you, maybe.
Look at me now, sitting on a chair, resting my chin on my hands, watching you like a guardian angel.
You move your fingers gently, like you would be touching something delicate. Maybe you are dreaming, and I would like to think you are dreaming of us then.
The images of the kisses I gave you, the sound of our voices melting together, the taste of you on my lips.
I can’t ask for more.
Stay with me forever, grow up with me…get old and grey with me. I want to fill our days with pleasant memories and every day again I want to carve my love on your body.
The fire of my lips will write my soul on your skin because you are mine and I won’t allow anybody to touch you.
I am jealous of the wind blowing through your hair, I hate the moon when he kisses your lips sneaking through the blinds at night.
My body is your shield, the place where you can rest, the temple where you can burn, now and forever.
I’ll repeat this vow to your precious self a million times, if you want to, until the sun will stop burning and beyond, up to eternity…

memories of blood smoke and steel

“Bo?!”
“What..?”
“This has to be the thousandth time I've called you…”
“Uhh, sorry, I was spacing out.”
Sho stepped onto the cushions and sat on his heels in front of me.
“Is something the matter? You seem worried…”
“Nothing special, really. I'm just tired.”
“Bo… it's not like we just met yesterday, I can tell when something's eating you..."
 He was right. We had known each other for a long time.
It was the day of my sixteenth birthday...

My grandmother was preparing coffee for me.
“Boris, did your father call?”
The question annoyed me, but I was not allowed to upset grandmother.
“No” I replied keeping cool.

I was used to that; those questions always were an introduction to something.

My grandmother raised me.
Since my father left us, my mother and I had returned to my grandparents’ house. The house had two floors, so we had an apartment of our own.
My mom took up studies at a local school for nurses and I passed all my time with my grandmother, drinking the poison of her love and authority.

“I thought as much. What a bastard. He never took care of you; he never even cared to keep in touch!”
“I don’t care.” I lied.
I knew she was going to get into the usual pattern.
“But it’s better like this. He would have ruined you and your mother, anyway.”
“Grandmother, could we avoid talking about him today?”
She looked at me with an expression that was a mix between disappointment and pity, and voiced a cold “As you wish.”

I could tell you all the words that would have come had I not stopped her; I could recite them one by one. To make a long story short, my father was insane; passing from one woman to another; a man who was unable to keep his dick in his pants. My grandparents had welcomed him like the son they didn’t have, and in return, he didn’t do anything but disappoint them.
He was a junkie and they always had to take him out troubles.
She would say, “Your grandfather still can’t get over the time when he found him in overdose, shaking, foaming at the mouth”.
My stomach contracted. Why did she insist on telling me all of these things about him? I was doing my best trying to forget about him so that the wound would heal, but she just kept slicing it open again.

That evening, my mother came home with a present for me: a new leather jacket. Just the one I wanted.
“Thanks mom! This is cool!” I wore it, putting on a show for her, “Hey baby, you doin' anything this evening? Wanna go for a ride?”
She laughed. She is so nice when she laughs.
“Actually, Bo, there is something I need to tell you…”
I stopped the scene and leaned against the wall “What is it…?”
“I want to introduce you to someone."
I saw it coming. My mom never remarried, and I knew that she had been seeing people in times passed, but none of them ever came over.
“I see. It’s alright!” I said hugging her “You don’t have to worry.”

The day after, she told me that Marc - that was his name - would be coming over for dinner.

When he came in he shook my hand strongly and said, talking to my mom, “So this is your son, you didn’t mention he was such a grown up handsome guy. Nice to meet you, kid.”
I am not a fucking kid.
“Nice to meet you, sir.”
“No please, call me Marc; we’re probably going to be seeing a lot of each other from now on.”
I can still remember the sensation I had at his touch. His hand was cold and humid, lascivious as much as his eyes were.
Something was not right. I felt it and I felt that there was nothing I could do or say to avoid him.

The months passed and he moved in with us.
He immediately began laying down rules and changing our way of living. He pushed me aside and did all in his power to convince my mother that I was a punk.

I was out. She didn’t want to be alone again and she believed him.
I began getting punished for anything I did which didn’t match his plans.

In that period, my mother got her diploma and she began working as a nurse in the city hospital. She wanted to earn as much as she could in order to buy a house and stand on her own two feet. She didn’t want to depend on her parents, nor on Marc.

To raise her income, she asked to be assigned to the night shifts.

While she was at work, I was home, with Marc.

Since our relationship was not ideal, I tried to stay away from him, and when my mom was working in the night, I went to sleep at my grandparents'.
Not that night.

When mom left I took my backpack and I sneaked to the door, but I found it closed.
I grabbed the doorknob with both hands and pulled it.

“You're out of time.”

Marc stood beside me, holding the key with two fingers, swinging it in front of my face.

I didn’t want to get into a fight with him. That would have just been a new chance for him to make me a criminal in the eyes of my mother.
I dropped my head, moving to go back to my room.

He took me by my shoulders and he pressed me to the wall.

His face was far too close. “Leave me…” I said, trying not to shout
Keeping me pinned with one arm, he squeezed my face in his opposing hand, and putting his mouth on mine he pushed his tongue in, looking for mine.

I tried to shout, but he slapped me. He pulled me up, took me into my room and threw me on the bed.

“For the next two hours you are not going to make a sound, little bitch, or I am ruining you” his hand was pushing on my mouth and nose. I was suffocating and convulsing, trying to free myself.

He beat me down, my nose was bleeding. He made with his finger a sign to tell me to shut up.

I began crying silently while he had his way with me.
That was the first time, but not the last one.

The day after, I got out early and I skipped school.

I didn’t feel like seeing anyone. I wanted to avoid questions about the marks on my face and I felt like I wanted to do something rebellious.

I got to some weed and I walked to the barely-populated place out of town.

Among the woods there was an old house. Nobody occupied it, and I would go there for a smoke from time to time.

I opened the door and headed to the back of the house, where I sat on the porch.

I lit my blunt and inhaled deeply. The smell of weed surrounded me. I lied on the bank and kept on smoking, eyes closed, enjoying the moment.

“Who are you, and what are you doing here?”, queried a voice as I sat bolt upright.
In front of me there was a guy who could be my age; from under a fall of honey blond hair I could see his grey eyes, his expression didn’t show any emotion.

I suddenly felt rage possessing me; my fist flew but before I could reach him a blade was grazing my neck.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
I dropped my hand.
“Go ahead and kill me. It's not like things can get any worse.”
“That would make me a murderer. I don't want that, so don't give me a reason.”
“Whatever…”

He put his knife away and sat on the bench “Sho… my name is Sho.”
“Boris.”
I picked up from the ground what remained of my smoke and I stepped to the door.
He took my arm
“I don’t know what makes you gravitate towards death like that, but remember this: It takes true courage to keep on living.”
I dropped my head.
“I’ll remember it.”

I left and, since school was already over, I went back home.

My mother was waiting for me, sitting at the kitchen table, hear head in her hands. They had called from school to ask about my absence.

“Can I have an explanation?” she asked, calmly.
My mother had always been like that, caring and understanding.
I didn’t reply.

“I don’t know what to do with you Bo… we give you all you need. Why do you insist behaving like some lowly punk?”
Hearing the word “we” caused something to snap.
I slammed my hands on the table.
“Why have you become so blind? Don’t you see what he is trying to do to us?”

“Why in the world are you blaming Marc for your behavior?” she said slightly raising her voice.

“Because that’s how it is! He's a liar!.”

“Mind your mouth, Bo! You know that he does a lot for us!”
“He's manipulating you! Why can't you see it?”
“That's enough…I thought I knew you. I was wrong. Go to your room, you’re grounded, and tomorrow I'm going to take you to school myself.”

“But, you’re wrong…I didn’t do anything wrong…”
“I can see it written all over your face,” she said with her eyes fixed on me, “should I expect a visit of the cops?”

I felt the tears burning in my eyes; I lost control.

“What did he do to you!? Is it just for a fuck!? You could have asked for it before going to fetch that asshole!”

My mother stood up, neared me and slapped me across the face.

“Go to your room, Boris. Now!”

I ran away.
I couldn't take staying in that house a second longer.
I grabbed a bag and threw some of my things in it. I put my jacket on and sneaked to the door.

“Boris! Where are you going? Come back, Bo!”
I heard her shouting.

I ran out and without realizing it, I headed to the old house in the rural place outside of town.

It was dark when I arrived.

The house was not illuminated.

When I neared the door I saw someone sitting under the front porch. It was Sho.

“Hi” I said, standing where I was.
“What brings you here? Still in a suicidal mood?”
“Screw you. I'm outta here.” I barked, turning away
He ran to me and grabbed me from my arm.
“Hey, I didn't mean anything by it. Do you need help?”

“I… I don’t know...”
I felt like I'd just been shot in the chest. I was crying, my body shaking as I fell to my knees.
He came over close to me and put a hand on my shoulder.
“Are you ok?”
“I ran away. I don't have anywhere to stay. ...Is it alright if I stay here? I'll be gone by first light.” I asked with trembling voice.
He didn’t answer. He helped me stand, and we entered the house.
“I'll go get you something to drink. Just wait here…” he showed me a mountain of cushions filling the corner of the room. I put my bag on the ground and sat.

After a few minutes he came back holding a cup, the scent of the tea filled the room.

He crawled on the pillows and sat on his heels.
“Here, drink this, it'll do you good.”

I took a sip and, suddenly, the tiredness from the night's ordeal caught up with me.

I looked at him sitting there, hands closed in a fist on his legs, his head down his eyes closed.
“Are you some kind of Samurai or something?”
He threw me a stern glance, “You should get some rest.” he said.
He went away and returned after a while with a blanket. I looked at him, hoping that my eyes would tell him my thoughts without having to utter them as words. “It’s alright,” he said, “sleep now.”
As far as I can recall, I fell asleep immediately, and the face of Marcus haunted my nightmares. I woke up, gasping for breath. Sho was looking at me. He was sitting, leaning against the wall, legs crossed, arms folded.
“Wanna talk about it?”
The shallow light filtering in through the broken blind told me that it was dawn.
“...I need a smoke.” We went to sit under the back porch and, almost without realizing, I began talking to him. It was as if I'd known him once before, from a long time ago.
He listened to me without commenting, or even changing his expression.
“So, what are you going to do now?” he asked me.
“I don’t know…”
He stared at the ground, pensive. It was true, too. I didn't have the faintest idea.
“I think you should go back home until you have a plan.”
I knew he was right, but the idea of seeing that jerk again really didn't excite me.
“Listen,” he continued, “I know you love your mother… why don't you try to talk to her again? If it’s not working…you…” he hesitated “...you can always come back here.” he concluded, staring at the ground.
I can still remember the gratitude I felt for that guy who gave me so much help without knowing me, without asking for anything in return.

I came back home that day, made it up to my mother, but the situation didn’t change.
I kept on living there and he kept on abusing me at his will.
But every time I felt that I was sinking, every time I felt like doing something really wrong, I could go to Sho. He would always listen to me, helping me understand what I really wanted to do, without telling me what was right or wrong.
“So,” Sho came lie next to me on the cushions, “wanna talk about it?” he made me smile.
In all the years that we were together he didn’t change of a bit, always cool and understanding.
After many years he was still the one helping me to stay on my path.

“I'm just tired, don't sweat it.”

I put a hand behind his neck, pulled him towards me and kissed him.

“Mmmmh,” he moaned, “I like it when you're tired.”

I smirked, “How about you make me use some energy, then?”
It was almost dawn and a sunbeam filtered in through the broken blind, obscuring my vision.
I pulled myself up and pushed him down on the cushions.

“We should fix that blind, you know.” I said, grazing his cheeks with my lips

“Mhmh,” he said languidly, letting himself be undressed, “later… I’ll… do it while you’re sleeping…”

You know what? We still have to fix that…

pathos and diary pages (I)

Tonight Boris is hanging to a bottle.

Fucking up. Because that is what he can do better.

The stories on the point of my pen seem to be always ending up in nothing. Everything starts and ends and there is nothing but void in between.

I don’t care about what life still has to give. I want to take what I want, not wait for some almsgiving shit.

I know it will be hard tomorrow but someone told me that it’s when it’s hard, that you can show you have a spine.

I have nothing left to break.

To the illusion and the hope I have felt, I say farewell. I am not able to hope without hanging on a thought of happiness and that hurts like hell.

I’d better burn (I would say…FUCK YEAH!) instead of staying here, living a virtual life without being able to manage the real one.

But this is so much better.

Here I can be the man I always wanted to be, strong, reliable, cool.

Out there I am nothing than a delicate branch braking at the first blow of the wind.

I ask forgiveness for the disappointment I cause and I wait for inspiration, while vomiting anger.

stained blossom

Reality is a trap. When you fall into it, there’s no way out. When you’re there there’s nothing but pain and all you can do is to stay motionless and try to forget.

“what are you planning to do, Bo?”

I swallowed soundly.

“Nothing” my answer echoed in the room.

“Months have passed and you don’t even try to get over it...what do you expect from me?”

My thoughts became blurry and I suddenly felt sick.

“Maybe it’s better you don’t come here anymore Sho. You are going to loose your time and you don’t owe me a thing.”

“What about our friendship? Our projects?”

“Friendship has nothing to do with this and without him nothing has sense anymore. What we wanted to do...I don’t even want to think about it anymore”

“I got it.” Sho’s voice became harsh “I was never in. I’ve always just been an accessory, some ‘easy to drop’ thing...am I wrong?”

I couldn’t answer. After the accident Sho had come to see me every day. He was entering the room kneeling on my carpet and he was sitting there for hours hands closed in a fist on his legs, his head down the eyes closed.

I was looking at him through the tears and I saw a slender warrior meditating about honour, life, death.

Every time he talked his voice crashed inside me like a wave mixing with the pain so strongly that my heart felt torpid.

“I can’t pretend that nothing happened and just go on.” I told him “ I was responsible for him” as much as I am for you. Go away Sho! Begin a new life. All this will bring to nothing. I am not worthy the time you spend here and I don’t want you here anymore...” I turned myself to the wall and closed my eyes.

I heard him standing up and heading to the door. The door clicked open and when I heard it getting closed again my breath became faster and I couldn’t keep the tears that were burning my eyes anymore.

I was hearing the sound of the tears falling on my pillow every drop made my head ache.

The loud moan escaping out of my throat became a cry that I suffocated in the mattress.

Desperation was paralyzing me. I pushed my fists into my chest so much that I hurt myself. And I remained that way until I didn’t have any voice left to shout, until the tears dried on my face and, exhausted, I fell asleep

And the dream came like every night.

It was in a narrow fetid street. The few street lanterns which were still working didn’t give enough light to define the profile of the buildings all around.

I felt Sho’s regular breath alternating with Tate’s desperate breathlessness coming from behind me

“It’s too dangerous Bo, It’s useless, Kid is gone, get over it!”

Before I could even try to hold it my fist hit Tate’s nose.

“Shit! Are you crazy?” Tate kept his bleeding nose trying not to shout, Sho who was holding him by his shoulders, looked at me with questioning eyes.

“Go to hell out of here Tate...You are useless here. Go back to the cove and stay there. Sho, you can go back with him, I’ll take care of this shit myself”

I heard someone running away. When I turned Tate had disappeared while Sho was still beside me. His expression unchanged.

“Why don’t you go?”

“I am not scared about death. But you....why do you do this for Kid? He screwed it up. He sold us, and then he ended up in Babylon. You want to risk your life for a traitor?”

“You know what I feel for him Sho...”

“When you are a leader you can’t decide with your heart, Bo”

I turned back towards the desert street

“No matter what you decide” he added “I’ll come with you”

I nodded at him and the scene changed. I was in Babylon's market. The street was crowded of warriors and merchants. A lot of them went down there to buy a hibernated clone.

“I wonder how it feels having a clone....I wonder if it soothes the fear of dying”

It was Kid’s voice coming from behind my back. I turned an looked at him.

“A real warrior has to be able to bear the thought of death. I didn’t think you were such a coward!”

Kid looked down embarrassed “the only reason that makes me fear death is the fear of loosing you...”.

I felt like I was going to suffocate and the scene behind my eyelids changed again.

I was in a room illuminated by a little red paper lantern, decorated with golden dragons.

I couldn’t feel my body but the warmth of the body holding me. I knew the hands touching my chest, strong hands signed by the use of the sword but delicate and warm.

“Kid...”

I felt his breath on my neck, then going down on my chest, I heard it getting shallower and faster.

“Kid...”

“We will always be together...”

The pleasure didn’t match the feeling of anxiety and pain that I still felt in my heart.

“Kid...don’t leave me...”

Suddenly the dark. My body was floating naked in the void. “Forgive me, Bo...” Kid’s voice broken by moans of pain “A warrior can’t decide with his heart”

A flash of light illuminated the scene. Kid was hanging on a butcher’s hook, his eyes wide open, blood flowing on his chest.

I sat up in my bed soaked of sweat, a shout stuck in my throat.

I didn’t do anything to hold the tears. A warrior must not cry, my father had told me that, but I didn’t care, I didn’t want to be a warrior anymore. I had lost to much to a cause that was not my own: honour love and I was about to loose friendship too.

Sho was the only important person left in my life. I stood up. I had to go and see him, excuse myself for having been such a jerk after all he had done for me.

I changed my clothes and headed to the subway.

The sky was getting the colours of sunset.

The evening train was crowded as usual, but I was so insensitive to the world around me that I barely noticed.

The house of Sho was in an open area outside town.

He didn’t like the crowd of Babylon and he had found an old house, built before the last big war and he just went to live there.

Sho was training in the yard. He liked to practice the outdoor.

When he saw me coming he lowed his sword and looked surprised.

“Bo?”

I laughed embarrassed.

“What happened?”

“I –I felt I needed to excuse myself”

Without commenting he showed me the door with his hand

“let’s go inside” he said.

We entered the house. The small front room was filled by large cushions he used as a couch.

He set on his heels while I threw myself on them falling on my back.

“You were right Sho, I have to try to get over it. But I have decided I want to leave the black market” if we don’t stop we are going to end up like Kid.”

Sho didn’t seem to be surprised.

“What do you plan to do?”

“I still don’t know, but I wanted to ask you...” I suddenly couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I told you already” he said taking me out of it “Whatever you decide, I am with you”.

For the first time since I had known Sho I saw him smiling, his skin like porcelain and his deep grey eyes were glowing in the warm colour of the huge candles illuminating the room. I had never paid attention to his looks before. He had always just been my right arm and my best friend.

He stood up.

“why don’t you just rest for a while, I have to take a shower and after that I'll make you something to eat...I fear it will be some deep freeze stuff...I didn’t count any guests for this evening”

“It’s all right”

Sho disappeared behind a sliding door and I tried to relax.

The flame of the candles was dancing at the little blows of hair coming through the old windows.

What could I do? There was not much I was able to do beside fighting, hacking and gathering information for the clients in the black market. I once used to repair and restore antique when my grandfather was still alive, but that was in the past.

After eating we sat outside under the porch in the back of the house. Sho had brought a bottle of plum liquor and he offered me a glass.

The smell of plums was sweet and penetrating.

“Last time we drank this we were all together by the artificial lake for your birthday. Do you remember?” I told him.

“How could I forget? You drank so much that you fell on the ground...after that you stood up again drank another glass, and Kid made you laugh on purpose so that all the liquor came out of your nose. Unforgettable!” he laughed soundly

“Yeah, that jerk!” I frowned. I didn’t understand how he could do that to me.

The week before he died he stole the data we had gathered for one of the biggest clan in the black market and he gave them to their opponent, but instead of getting paid for it, he finished in their exploiting centre, where they used him as a hacker and then, when he had done the job they expected from him, they killed him.

I drank the glass in one shot. Sho looked at me with his glass in his hand and then swallowed his liquor in one shot too.

We laughed, drank and remembered the past.

“I have to go now” it was almost morning, a thick mist was covering the meadow.

“Right”

We stood up and Sho came with me to the front door.

Before opening the door I put a hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks Sho, without your help I would still be on my knees...”

I hugged him. His heart was pounding.

“Bo...”

Our faces were so near, the smell of flowers of his skin surrounded me.

My arms went down from his shoulders and pulled up his shirt, he tasted of plums and his tongue skilfully looked for mine. Undressing each other we landed on the cushions.

Illustration By Grey

It felt right but it was not. He was my best friend, that was not the right way to forget Kid.

“Sho, I think we’d better...” he kissed me silent.

“Bo, I have been waiting for this for all these years, watching you and Kid, staying beside you. Even if you don’t want this anymore I will take you tonight...”

I lost my determination. I closed my eyes.

Sho’s hands found their way, so did his mouth. The point of his tongue roamed drawing pleasure on my skin, while his hands caressed my erection.

My breath was out of control. Sho could feel any contraction of my muscles and following the rhythm of that pulse he lead me to the edge and than stopped making me lose control.

I sat up and rushed behind him. I kissed his back and grabbed his legs tightly.

He dropped his head on the pillow panting laboriously.

The warmth inside of him made me shiver, I leaned on his back and rubbed gently on his hardened nipple. He got a hold of his shaft and stroke it following the movements of my hips.

I didn’t want it to finish.

“Sho I want to taste...I want to know how you taste...”

“mmmh, Bo I am near...If you talk once more, It’ll be too late!”

He lied on his back and I took him in my mouth. He tasted sweet and salty, vaguely of plums and alcohol...

“You taste great” I said licking my lips with the point of my tongue.

I put his tight on my legs and while entering him again I kissed his mouth deeply, slowly.

Coming was like a kaleidoscope of sensations he swallowed me and my soul, there was no way back.

Sho came suffocating his moans in the pillows.

I went to lie next to him.

“My fucking god...” I uttered

“Do I have to understand that you liked it?”

I punched his side gently and he grinned

“I don’t think I am going to forget this very quickly...I told him.”

“I won’t let you” he answered

He stretched. “what about sleeping a while?”

I frowned “I can’t sleep Sho, the images of the night we have found Kid keep on tormenting me...I-I’d better go home...” I said sitting up.

Sho punched me down.

“No way. You are staying here and if you have a nightmare again I will take care of you. We need to discuss about our future when we wake up!” he added.

I surrendered and put myself down. He lied prone and put his arm on my waist.

“Try to sleep now” he said.

I closed my eyes waiting for the dream to come. I didn’t know what would have been of our lives, but I knew Sho had always been there when I needed him to be.

Another day was going to come, and in that moment I knew I didn’t have to face it alone. It was all that mattered.

Shallow drafts & inspiration

"This is what you do for a living uh? shallow..."
"what?"
"I said SHALLOW"
"right, and I have answered WHAT IS SHALLOW?"
"You think you are a writer, but your stories seem a collage of horny fan girls thoughts...pathetic."
I couldn' reply much to his comment. He was right.
Since I had been able to hold a pen properly I didn't want to do anything else than writing, and it went so on for years.
When i turned nineteen, I entered university (just because my mother wasn't giving up the "family business" story). In the day I had to study and at night I was working on my novel, I was writing that one tale I wanted to link my name to.
I graduated and finished my book at the same time, after that I moved away from my family house before my mother could finish suffocating me and I begun introducing my books to some editors.
Thanks to some acquaintances from school I found an evening  job in a pub and a day job as a newspaper boy and with the money I could pay the rent of the one room I had moved to.
After a few weeks I got an e-mail:
Dear Mr. Bitter,
we have read your manuscript and we really are interested in your style. Your tale has something different from the ones we have received until now, and we are interested in discussing with you about a possible cooperation.
please, get in contact with our assistant to fix an appointment.
Sincerely,
M. Saini
I couldn't believe it! I immediately called for an appointment and the day after I was sitting in the waiting room of Mr. Saini.
The heavy wooden door went open and a gray-haired man came out.
"Mr. Bitter, I suppose...I am Mr. Saini, please, come in..." he said showing me the room with his large hand.
The office was sober, on the wall a big nude photograph portraying a muscular model in a classical pose.
Mr. Saini sat on his chair and I took place in front of him.
"Do you want something to drink? I'll let it bring for you..." he asked
"No, thanks..." I answered. I didn't know why but i didn't like the man, I had the impression he was being polite to find an easy way to fuck me around.
"I want to go immediately to the point with you,  Mr. Bitter or can I call you Boris?" I saw it coming
"We normally don't publish anything without a contribution of the author. We really are interested in your story, but until you don't proof yourself able to make us earn money, we are not ready to invest on you. Your style is fine, but you still have to refine your skills...probably you still did not see enough of the world to appeal the reader and break out in originality."
I was listening very carefully trying to read among the lines.
"Of course, there are compromises. You could sign a contract in which we will own your work and that way you will allow us to make some little modifications to your story...you know Boris, we know the market, we are in this business since years! The big audience doesn't like to read about reality, they prefer to read about action, sex and incredible events; your characters are too normal. They are ugly and sad like we all are. We don't want to read about something we are obliged to experience every day...you understand?"
"I understand perfectly..." I replied without loosing my temper "you want me and my book to become one of your bitches."
"Boris, don't take it personally. Personally I really like your work, and I like you too, but I am not the only one deciding..."
"No problem" I said standing up "I think my time here is out. thanks for inviting me Mr. Saini".
I turned away but he stopped me at the door "Think about it" he said, his face much too near to my face "I'd really like to work with you"
The scent of his expensive perfume filled my nostrils, making me dizzy.
I opened the door and I ran out without looking back.
When I got back home I threw myself on the bed and I began crying like a kid. I felt so humiliated, I thought that kind of stuff was real only in cheap fiction but he had really tried to buy me, maybe if I would have offered him my ass he wouldn't even have mentioned changing my novel.
I ran to the toilet and I vomited, my hands pushed in my stomach, my eyes full of tears. Then I washed my face, I returned on my bed and I opened my laptop.
A new document, virgin white, was waiting for me to be filled in.
A few second of concentrations then the words began to flow out of my fingers like cum and I wrote the most obscene story I had ever heard about. I filled it with shallow details, cheap actions and a lot of sex, after that I have opened my blog and I have pasted the tale in a new post.
"Now that..." I said to myself "This is porn!" I had to laugh about it.
I actually liked it and while revising it I almost got an erection. It was not shining in originality, but it was pleasant to read.
After publishing the short on the net, I have been contacted from a few erotic magazines and I now write some stories for them, from time to time. I am an employee in the rest of my time (not in the family business!), and I still work in that pub in the evening.
I still have one little dream: seeing my novel published. But dreams sometimes are made to be left in the drawer and give your life a sense, day after day.
"Hey Bo, I hope you don't hate me now, you know that I am the kind of guy who sais what he thinks...I can't help.."
Joy was looking at me with a worried shadow on his face.
"Never mind..." I told him "...I know you are right"
He was lying on the couch, one of his legs hanging out of it, he kept his hands under his head.
"Now you think I am an old perv, don't you?"
"Bah, I don't think it, I know it!" he replied smirking.
"You little jerk!" I told him sitting myself on the ground next to him.
"Say, Joy...why are you always so cold to me? I am here melting for you and you cannot relax..."
"I don't know...I am just shy, maybe...come on! You piss me off with this kind of questions".
I turned and I kissed him. He let himself be kissed but didn't respond to my action.
"Anything you feel like doing?" he nodded and he sat on the sofa pulling me up to sit next to him.
While he was kissing me I had this idea that writing is like cooking, you can prepare fabulous dishes and maybe some people will like them, but there will always be a certain amount of people who don't.  Of course, if I would write like I cook, it would seriously be better for me to stop, but I am sure I can be a good writer, and I am not going to stop writing for anything or anybody.
Writing doesn't mean publishing, and since I am destined to die young I have probably lost my chance to do it already. It's not how many books you have published the parameter making of yourself a novelist or not, but the stories you have to tell, the emotions you have to convey.
I still have some stories left in my minstrel's pouch and some more could come.
languid hours with my shy lover surely help my creativity anyway, so if you can excuse me...I have to go getting inspired!

Rough

With you it has to be rough.
You don’t like sentimentalism and you don’t like beauty. Sex has to hurt to feel real, the same is true for love.
I am your slave but there should be limits. I don’t like you to laugh at me. I don’t like you to sell my body and my soul, to other ghosts. I don’t like you to have sex with him while I am watching.
Marcus is a nice guy, but he thinks he owns you, and you let him think that, just because you like the way he looks down at me. He’s noting more than a bottom to you, just like me.
But I have something he’s never going to have. I’ve got your tears.
Can you still remember the night we met? You had just been dumped from the one and only man who ever had your respect. You were down at the “Paradise” and Carl was filling one glass after the other for you. You were as smashed as you could be. When I entered the pub I tried to ignore you but you came next to me and you told me your first cheesy line “I think you have a very nice ass can I check?”
“Asshole” that was the only thing I could reply and when you tried to kiss me I gave you a punch on your face, hurting myself more than I hurt you. I ran out of the pub, you came after me.
“What do you want? get the hell away from me…” you grabbed my hands and pushed me to the wall. Your eyes where wet. For a second I thought you looked cute. But than you kissed me and the smell of beer made me sick.
“I am pathetic. I know. But I think you could heal my heart. I need your body tonight”
what the hell…I thought.
I stopped fighting. You kissed me and I kissed you back. You immediately showed me who was going to rule.
We ended up in my bed. You hurt me, until pain and pleasure became one. You didn’t even know my name. So you called me honey, the only sweet touch in our story.
When you came with a sore noise coming out of your throat I was crying and you made me come with your big hands, crying his name on my shoulder,then you dressed, and you threw a visit card on my night table:
“Call me. I liked it”
When you stepped out the door I felt I had become your slave, I felt our tears had set a link between us forever.
This is something I am never going to tell Marcus: the pain you give me makes our love stronger, the pleasure you give him is just the prelude to a farewell.
People can be deceived.
I’ll call you anyway, because I like it too, every single time.

Cherry

Mel woke up. He had fallen asleep on the couch, and that was not his own couch. His head was aching. He tried to recollect the memories of the past night.

He was at the “Paradise”, he already had a few drinks, the last one he could remember was a cocktail cherry and he could still taste the cherry through the sour taste of alcohol.
“You’re awake, finally…”
“Bo…Boris? What am I doing at your place?”
“Sorry for not having let you sleep on the parking of the “Paradise”, next time I’ll stick with my first thought and walk away. What were you trying to do?”
Mel tried to remember. Some confused images came to his mind. The image of Himself entering the door of his flat, and Kevin kissing with Nora. His knuckles reaching Kevin’s nose. The race with his motorbike to the “Paradise”. The first drink, possibly a Martini, followed by how many? He couldn’t remember precisely.
“Sorry…” he moaned towards Boris “…and thanks”
Boris, disappeared for a while coming back with a mug full of coffee.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what?”
“the reason why you were trying to drink the whole “Paradise” stock in one nigh?”
“drop it”
“As you wish”
Boris didn’t change since the last time he had seen him, and he didn’t loose the habit of taking him out of troubles. Mel felt annoyed for a moment. He always acted like a big brother, minding his business and giving him lectures with the cocky attitude of an old son of a bitch.
“I’ll drive you home” said Boris standing up “than you can take a shower and sleep in your own bed for a couple of hours before going to work”
Last thing Mel wanted was to go back home and get to see that bastard of Kevin making up excuses.
“Can I stay? Just for tonight?” he hated to ask, but being lectured from Boris was not so bad compared to what was expecting him at home.
“Alright than, but I am not going to give you my bed. You’ll sleep on the couch and you have to get out of here as soon as possible ok?”
“If you don’t want me to stay you don’t have to force yourself” Mel got irritated all of a sudden. He stood up
“I’ll be fine” he said grabbing the leather jacket from a chair and he headed to the door.
Boris reached it first and he went standing in front of it. He closed his eyes and Mel could see his troubled expression through the light beam of a street lantern hitting his face.
“I want you to stay” he said roughly.
Mel dropped his jacket. What was that? He expected Boris to scold him or to open the door for him. What was that just now?
Last time they had seen each other it was during a New Year party two years before. They were both quite drunk but, unlike Mel, Boris was still able to step and use his brain quite sharply.
After the party Boris had taken Mel to his apartment.
Mel could still remember it.
Boris carrying him in his car.
Himself vomiting on the edge of the street.
Boris undressing him and laying him in his bed.
Himself pulling Boris towards him.
A kiss. Boris touching him, himself kissing Boris chest and his hands going down and unzipping his trousers.
Boris suddenly going away from him.
“You are too drunk; you’re going to regret this”
That had been the last sentence he heard from him until that nigh.
“So, now I am not too drunk for you anymore?”
Boris shook his head. “You didn’t forget. I didn’t mean to hurt you or to reject you back than Mel. It was just not the right moment”
“And it is tonight…”
“I didn’t say that.”
Mel picked up his jacket on the floor “Let me go!” he tried to move Boris from the door but the man took his arm and he pulled him towards himself.

Mel felt his legs becoming weak but he tried to resist by sulking.
“You are such a jerk! Why didn’t you ever look for me?”
“Why didn’t you do it?”
Boris lifted him on his shoulder and Mel laughed pretending to be annoyed.
“Let me go old perv…”
Mel fell on the bed. Boris room was still the same: the wall painted in red, the big bed, with those cheap flowery sheets, the smell of wet coming from the ceiling.
Boris took away his shirt his grey eyes hooked into Mel’s green ones.
Mel was paralyzed, how much did he want that? He felt dizzy, aroused…lost.
Boris undressed him kissing him gently at first but Mel felt he was loosing control and he pushed him on the bed.
He wanted to taste every single inch of his body and this time Boris was not going to stop him.
Boris didn’t make a noise; he only felt his muscles tensing under his lips.
When Mel’s mouth reached his erection Boris whispered a moan
“M-Mel, don’t teas…”
“I am getting crazy already, why don’t you just take me now?” Mel was not able to flirt. His thoughts and his feelings were much to complicating to be put into romance.
He needed to feel him.
Boris stood on his knees, grabbed Mel’s waist and he turned him pushing his head on the pillow. He caressed his back clinging on him and he pushed himself inside him, slowly.
Mel’s eyes filled with tears. He bit the pillow, his body shivered.
Boris moans made him crazy. Mel closed his eyes and he listened to the voice of Boris whispering his name while the rhythm of his flesh pushing into him made his tension grow.
Boris hand grabbed Mel’s erection and began moving faster. The sound of their heavy breaths made their excitement grow to the climax when they both fell on the bed exhausted.
Boris squeezed Mel in his arms.
Mel giggled.
“You smell of cherry…” said Boris.
“I actually smell of you now, and I like it. Can I sleep here, or you want me to go on the couch?”
“What do you think, idiot…”
“I think I don’t feel like sleeping”
He gave Boris another cherry kiss and he disappeared under the sheets.

Side Stories #2 – Tate x Aki

[MXM]

Aki has red hair, he is fragile, you would think he is a dreamer.

He is not happy about the image in the mirror, too feminine to belong to a guy, but he wouldn’t stand being the portrait of a Neanderthal, so he copes with it.
Aki is in love, secretly: he is in love with Tate in an unreasonable way, and he doesn’t want to admit it to himself, it would be too painful.
Tate is a jerk with brown hair and a cunning smile. He loves his image in the mirror and he looks at himself smirking.
I wouldn’t call him handsome but he has a terrific ass (personal comment of a pervert narrator).
His blue uniform suits him perfectly.
Tate is in love, secretly: he is in love with Aki. He wants to take him but he doesn’ want to admit it to himself, not because of the fact that he is a guy, just because he cannot stand the idea of being in love, he cannot afford loosing control. He doesn’t like to feel week or to rely to someone different from himself.
They have to patrol together today. Aki feels tense, he would like to talk to him, but Tate is always so assertive that he feels like crying, but the last thing he can do is cry in front of him.
They have to check the red zone – nothing special actually – nothing more than a wheelie bin on fire from time to time.
Tate is driving while checking Aki with the corner of his eye. Aki stares in front of himself but he feels the glance and he blushes.
“Wat’s up?” Tate tries to be gentle but his voice sounds rough, slightly rude.
Aki tries to be assertive too but he fails “I..it’s nothing…just…I am just checking around, doing my job…it’s just…”  his heart is bouncing and he asks himself if Tate hears it too. Tate feels a pheromones shot and he swallows loudly.
“It’s just?” he urges languidly
“I feel uncomfortable…” Aki sais all in one go.
Tate cannot reply, he is confused, he didn’t realize that Aki returned his feelings and only now he understand how much he wanted it. They remain silent.
Aki shakes his head “I-feel-uncomfortable???” he thinks punching himself mentally “Since you were busy with it why didn’t you tell him that he makes you crazy and you’d like him to make love to you? Aki you are a complete asshole!” he lets his head fall.
Tate his looking for the right words to resume the conversation.
When he thinks about all the time he has lost playing the jerk, without realizing that what he really wanted was there by the hand, he feels like an idiot.
“LISTEN I…” they say contemporarily.
They can’t keep themselves from laughing, a releasing laugh, setting them free from fear and prejudices.
“You first…” says Aki without watching. Tate gives him a short glance then he looks back at the road.
The sun has the warm colour of the late afternoon and the shift is almost out.
“what about drinking something together when we are done here?”
“Actually I am hungry” Aki states tidying his air together with his thoughts.
“Well, among my thousands of qualities I am a great cook…” says Tate pretending to boast “what about me cooking for you at my place?”
“what will your girlfriend think about the intruder?”
Tate thinks about the girl of a few days before, nice to see, but she was so annoying that he threw her out before she could dress again.
 ”I live alone…”
Aki was hoping to hear that and he smiles ”Shit, I’ll have to wash the dishes since I cannot cook anything eatable!”
Tate laughs out loud and then he becomes serious. The mental image melts and Aki is in his arms.
“Listen Aki, what do you expect from me? I have never had a serious relationship. I am an asshole…it’s going to end badly, eventually…”
Aki feels a cramp in his stomach. “I think I can take the risk” he replies trying to keep calm. Up to that moment he only had that kind of conversation in his dreams “I’ll try not to piss you off…”
 Tate parks at the side of the road, just under a ‘no parking’ sign, he pulls Aki towards himself and kisses him softly.
All around them just the street stained with the colours of the sunset. They are breathing heavily for the surprise and the excitement. They kiss again deeply tasting each other fully.
“Hey, do you like pizza? I lied when I said I could cook…” sais Tate still out of control.
Aki nods smiling as the car starts again disappearing behind the corner - he is thinking that it will be the best pizza ever.

 

 

At this rate…that is…(what a f***ing title is this actually!)

I cannot stop thinking about you. I know this is the line of an highschool girl, and not the love letter of a man, but that’s how I feel about you.

After so much time since we last met, the image of you begins to fade, but I still remember your taste, the touch of your hands, the depth of your eyes.

I am not writing you to give you compliments. I am writing you to set myself free from this obsession. I am not in love, that’s what I like to think, I am just charmed from the memories of pleasure and from the little gap of unknown that comes from the fact we have always remained strangers to each other.

You think I am an old maniac and I think you are a wild young man, and I have had proof we match, in bed at least.

You finally answered to my message, just to tell me you’ll let me know when you are free, eventually. a little “x” and the fact you answered at night to make me hope that even if we are not meant to be together in life, we’ll burn together again.

I would like to know what you are thinking. The fact I am old, and the fact I am a man, as you are, doesn’t mean that I cannot be interested in having a piece of your mind. Let me know what you think, I beg you. I am nothing but amusement for you…good, let it be, but then I’ll know where I am standing.

I need to know if you feel something, that won’t change my behaviour towards you, but it will set up myself towards myself.

There are two parts of me fighting each other, a dreamer which is consuming in his own memories of happiness,  an old ass-hole who knows that love is just a big bag where we throw all the feeling we cannot give a label too and that pheromones are often worse than poison.

Do you think I am a bitch? I am. I am a bitch sold to passion, because I cannot bear the thought that relationships are made to fall into giving each other for granted and to share a cold bed, just to end up old, unable to move, full of shit, hoping to be the first one to fall not to need to take care of the other.

I know too many people who stay together because it’s convenient or not to hurt their family, or because they have children they can’t stand to leave behind. In the name of love we kill our personalities, we accept goddamned compromises and we live a life we do not own.

I have run away from this, hurting the ones I thought I loved, hurting myself to the edge of endurance. And still I look for love. That love which is the only thing I’ve been hurt by in my entire life.

This is not a trick to pull you into my bed.  Do I want to have sex with you? You got to be kidding me. God only knows how much I want you, but the point of this is do I want to be moaning in the arms of someone considering me shallow? Am I ready to be the sperm receiving ass for a person judging me not worthy? I don’t know.

I cannot know the answer until I don’t know what you think. I cannot know my feeling until I don’t hear you say  “Boris, you are a bitch I just want to fuck you and if you would be any other asshole in the world it would not make any difference for me”. When I have to confront with this, I’ll understand.

I just need you to kill me and raise from my ashes, eventually.

My mobile phone is on. I keep it on my night table, just in case.

x

Boris.

PS: at this rate…that is…