alice wore garments made of fairytales, that were pinned together with principals, her insolence was subtle and savvy, her skin soft and her gestures looked like how gemulai and selam berselam flow off your tongue. She was a mother to the country, a product of a Catholic school, a microscope to the world.
charlie was amphetamines in lace, only dropping when there were no distractions, Charlie was Jupiter and brilliant, the Artic and the Amazon, simultaneously, autonomously, erroneously. she played it like a video game, she played it loud and fast, she played it in the sun with her pockets full of pills. she had so much love to give, not enough to get. charlie was a.d.d. with o.c.d. and every imaginable tangent yet.
alice lived in an infinite amount of worlds, she had a thick notebook. it was stuffed with so many extra pages, it looked like a bride throwing confetti. All the different doors to all her different worlds were in here, all her sensories danced a waltz at her fingertips, all her binaries got their plotlines straight. she was always tapping her fingers, she tapped over the inky bumps and dents of her pages. she tapped at the doors with her fingertips she whispered softly to the wood. rubbing velvet on her face, the grains in cream on her thighs, her fingerprints against each other, ba da da, ba da da.
charlie's street where she lived was on the main stage, center stage, in the spotlight. life was weird, life was fucked up, but she wanted it like that. Life passed by like stills in a movie, like wooden boards with painted scenery, projectors flashing photographs. Life was trails of trains choo choo chooing on the tracks of rolled jades, charlie was a jack of all trades, the local Ace of Spades. she'd seen it all with young eyes, she'd lived to tell the tale twice.
alice loved charlie right off, from the word go, she was on. turned on, on top, on it, to ride it, to win it. charlie had this rage, alice cooled her down. alice blew the breeze that blew into the car, on to charlie's face hanging out the window. charlie loved going fast, but with alice, everything was like in slow motion. alice showed charlie a secret, she opened up her book, she spread her pages wide and said, come inside charlie. i know you like to explore, she said. put your lips here between my pages and whisper to come in. charlie rapped out poems on the pages, alice tapped out rhythms on her spine, on the lower part of charlie's back, where the skin was warmed by summer sun.
the paper started getting wet, the ink began to stain, the book began soaking through, the pages began to rain. you've whispered on the gates of Ceylon, on this Sacred Island you shall find Serendipity and a gateway to the Gods. charlie came in, she slid through her skin and into the lines upon lines, the lines of Ceylon. Here you will find Ninety Thousand Verses of dharma, artha, kama and moksha. Here you will dance with Holy Queen Anula, and dine with the Righteous Crown of Pandya. charlie danced and she dined, she licked her plate clean, she got drunk on wine and closed the book shut. I need a rest, six pages left, pump the bass, sing the ref, i've lost my breath.
charlie was amphetamines, never dropping when it was hot. like the deserts of the Middle East, to the left a little, a little to the south, closer to the beast. She found Monrovia, Liberia and here the rains caused hysteria. Delirious with heat and wet, alacrious with skipping steps, charlie battled with Prince Johnson in the Congo town, she tied him up, she rode him down, right onto the ivory coast. Victorious and proud, she'd made the Mysterious bow, on their bended knees, charlie was amphetamines, never dropping when it was hot.
alice shut her book, stop your rapping and your rhyming, the temperature is climbing, stop your whispering and entering, these secrets are blistering, the temperature is rising. alice swayed her hips and her hands moved like the waves of the ocean, she slowed down her motions and pursed her lips, kiss me here, gentle, gently, kiss me here and i'll show you many more worlds, lose you in a maze of 360 degree turns, that's the helix, that's the ellipse, this is all in spacetime, here in my pseudosphere. can you feel my skin burn, can you feel this cosmological constant pushing out my lips, that grip, at the tips, with the whips, at their clits?
charlie played it loud and fast, charlie played it like a video game, charlie's fingers flicked through the ink, the tips, of the lips, with the whips, on the clit. charlie was the Amazon, charlic was the Arctic, charlie had her Valkyrian, with her pages open at the slit, she explored every inch, she dipped her fingertip in, she stirred the black and white text, the rest of her sex was seeping black ink. her pages turned in sync, her pages, they were wrecked, her bursting book was vexed, it was sopping wet. monsoon rains from her thighs spreading stains of black ink, alice's pages and pages of brides with confetti, all thrown in sync, all in the rain.
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