XIV.

 

As a matter of fact, what master doesn't know is that I am writing a story.
Of course it is autobiographical which means it is about myself, which is
after all my favorite subject. Also, it can't be a 'pillow book' because it's
about what happened in the past, not just last night or yesterday or now,
what I usually write about. And it's in no particular order just I write things
when I get a memory. If I think about my mind, I don't know where my
memories start or finish, so I have to write it that way, especially since
anything will start me remembering something else, which is one reason
I keep the mirror next to the computer.

 

My face is inspiring. Apart from getting me remembering things, it is also
very attractive to me. It makes me envious of other bodies, my master's in
particular. SHe has free access to my face whenever sHe wants, sHe is able
to experience the sensation of my mouth, sHe can put a face on mine and feel
through the skin sHe owns the contours soft and boney belonging to me. I look
in the mirror and raise my fingers to my face and watch them tracing every line,
rubbing the lips of my mouth to fold them back against perfect uneven bits of bone
sticking out from tight pink wet sleeves and between these little hard fences a flat muscled
worm emerges to curl over my finger slimey finger hard teeth firm tongue soft lips suck my
hand all over then fingers can feel inside my mouth under the tongue blue and smooth, it feels
blue and smooth to my touch.

 

What bothers me, frustrates me I suppose is that I cannot put my own
lips to my own face, I cannot rub my own nose against my own nose,
its inner gristle under a layer of skin making a chisel of my face, I must
cut the air as I move, I want to lay my nose against that form that texture
I want to poke at my own cheek with the tip of my nose.
But the glass of the mirror is resisting me. It is cool, hard, dry, flat, I breathe
on it haaaah and my features blur into patches pale and dark, my face can
only get near a flat reflection of my own face, and because of my eyes,
my fingers never learnt to see properly.
What a pain in the ass.

 

<-- scene XIII

--> scene XV.

pre-face