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Blepharospasm - 311- soft fleshed touched trippers +


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Ersteintrag: 01.05.2012 19:10:30 GMT+02:00
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Blepharospasm

not since anthony burgess wrote a clockwork orange, has a book taken a reader into the mind and world of vivid thought and exploitations that its characters progress. Blepharospasm explodes with three dimensional arterial pulses that flow deep within the prisms emission, of rainbow flowing light and asphalt crater cracks, that bleed through the acid filled minds, of todays soft fleshed touched trippers.

From Blepharospasm by Harutyun Mackoushian. Blepharospasm
Page. 87.
((Two undernourished egos))
The color: red green
Sore-eyed, and a shivering is running in my feet, and we change our dresses to relax. A box of fruit juice in the middle of the room. Two cups, we wear wide clothes to move easily, and we cross out. Were both sitting on the carpet, blotched. Before us, two cups, sore-eyed...the eyelashes flutter strongly. A spliff in the ashtray. She holds out her hand and wipes the accumulated dust over my eyelashes. She changes the place of the ashtray and walks toward the box of fruit juice, which is in the middle of the room; she picks it up and returns to me. She pours the box of fruit juice in the two cups that are in front of me. I flick the flint of the lighter on the carpet making a spark, she flicks her lighter, lights a cigarette. I take the cup and drink it, and she stares stunned to her cup. She gets up and walks toward the table; she picks up from the table slices of lemon, and then returns to me. She tosses the slices of lemon into the two cups. I take the cup and drink it. And she fills more juice in my cup, and stares stunned into her cup. Then she takes it and drinks. She leans against her shoulder and slumbers. I lie down peacefully, yet the crossing out, the traces of the crossing out. The traces of the crossing out are on the rim of the cup. And I'm still flicking the flint of the lighter on the carpet making a spark. And she lights another cigarette unconsciously. She is slumbering, smoking a grass and I am in wide clothes crossing out, crossing out, crossing out, crossing out whenever I flick the flint of the lighter onto the carpet, with each spark, with each vein protrudes out of my arms. Her lighter is still lighting in her hand, staring into the flame unconsciously. I X out and X out until I dive and float into a deep blackness, where there is no gravity and neither a brain. Veins are increasing from out of my arms and increasing and appearing green. The sleeves of my wide clothes rising up and veil her face; I hold the side of my wide clothes and float by it, I get deeper into the darkness. The gravity's zero makes the brain a play field. Electric horses without riders turning and turning. I X out, X out, X out with each turn. The vertigo slides from me and fades away, it knocks on her bones, her eyes blink for a while. I follow up with the electric horses, I climb up and no more vertigo. It removed everything. My wide clothes are floating in the air, throwing shadows on the heads of the electric horses. It got crossed out. Her eyes twitch, and my eyes sore. I pour for myself another juice cup. She mutters; licks the grass that is on her mouth. The electric horses still turning...and the carpet becomes passageway; I stick my fingers in my ears for more sound, and I stick and stick. It got crossed out. I enjoy with that. I stop flicking the flint of the lighter on the carpet. The lighter is lighting in her hand. The sleeves of my wide clothes plunge down. Her face is clear, and the flame of the lighter that is in her hand. A breeze comes from her face veins. Her eyes blink for a while, I wipe her mouth with my hand, the traces of the grass. She grips the ashtray, and changes its place. Then she gets up unconsciously and walks toward the table, picks up two scissors and two chapeaus, returns toward me. She stares stunned to her cup. She gives me the scissors and the chapeau. She smiles to me unconsciously. I cut my hair, and she cuts her hair. She stares at me stunned. We cut our hair until the scalp of our head becomes touched and visible. Then we put the hat on our heads. She stares at me stunned! Then she gets up again and walks toward the table. She picks up scattered prescriptions from the table then she backs to me again. I pick involuntarily one of those prescriptions. And she picks a one for herself. Then she throws the rest. She lights a cigarette and stares into my face. She joins my face between her arms, and then she puts the prescription that is in my hand, inside the hat that I am wearing. And she puts her prescription inside her hat. She pours in my cup and in her cup the last drop of the fruit juice box. We drink the cup in one stroke, and the lemon slices remain inside the cup. She stares at me with wide eyes, and then she stresses down the brim of my hat and veils my eyes. Then she stresses down the brim of her hat, veils her eyes, and then she flicks her lighter.

Page. 107.

((Xerostomia))
The color: carbonic
Me: (sitting on the table fixing a lighter.)
She: (lying down on the sofa and lipsticking her mouth.)
Me: (sitting on the table fixing a lighter.)
She: (throws from the sofa to the ground couple books, rulers, combs, papers, pocket
mirror, pencils, dolls, shoehorn, periwigs, plastic cups.)
Me: (sitting on the table fixing a lighter.)
She: (picks up a pack of playing cards from the sofa tucks and shuffles them, then
sets them on the sofa upside down.)
Me: (sitting on the table fixing a lighter.)
She: (picks up a card, and then she scratches on it by pencil sharpener. Then she put
it aside.)
Me: (sitting on the table fixing a lighter.)
She: (gathers the cards and shuffles them and sets them once again.)
Me: (sitting on the table fixing a lighter.)
She: (picks up a card, and then she scratches on it by a pencil sharpener. Then she
puts it aside.)
Me: (sitting on the table fixing a lighter.)
She: (gathers the cards and shuffles them and sets them again.)
Me: (sitting on the table fixing a lighter.)
She: (picks up a card, then she scratch on it by a pencil sharpener. Then she puts it
aside.)
Me: (sitting on the table fixing a lighter.)
She: (gathers the cards and shuffles them and sets them again.)
Me: (sitting on the table fixing a lighter.)
She: (picks up a card, then she scratches on it by a pencil sharpener. Then she puts it
aside.)
Me: (sitting on the table fixing a lighter.)
She: (blushed cheeks) "You paralyze me."
Me: (in a low voice) "What"?
She: (picks up the four scratched cards that she put them aside, and chews them up
one after the other.)
Me: (flicking the lighter.)
She: (rests her head against the wall, watching the flowers that are on the table
through wide eyes blue, pupils widen and change their hue.)

Page. 129.
((Anti-inflammatories))
The color: blue yellow
She puts the coffeepot on the fire, and stares at the fire that is burning under the
coffeepot. She blows, trying to extinguish the fire. She stares at him. He is sitting on
the couch picking glass balls with his fingers, rolling them to the edge of the table.
"Are you staying awake deliberately".
He stares at her, and answers her with a smile...she repeats the question loudly, "Are you staying awake deliberately?"
He picks one of the glass balls, he stares at the glass ball, he stares contemplating at
the glass ball, and then he throws it toward her. She turns her face away from him and blows again, trying to extinguish the fire. He sinks his head between his feet, bends down, his head about to touch the ground, and then he adjusts his sitting again, and then bends down, his head sunken between his feet about to touch the ground. She steps away from the stove, walks in the room, walks around him, bends down and picks up one of the rolling glass balls on the ground, and he stares at her, how she is picking the glass ball from the ground. He puts his head between his hands and stares. She gets up holding the glass ball, stares at him, stares at him, stares at him, then she closes her eyes. She yells, "Are you staying awake deliberately?"
He throws away the alarm clock on her, she opens her eyes, red, her mouth smiling. She runs raged in the room and he bends down, staring, contemplating at the scattered glass balls on the ground. She picks up glass balls from the ground and throws them on the wall toward him. The glass balls hit the wall, turn back and roll
on the ground, and he bends down, his head between his feet about to touch the ground. She stays quiet in her place, staring at him. She comes back to the stove, blows, trying to extinguish the fire. She shakes the stove, stares from the top at the empty coffeepot, which is on the fire, burning. Heavy smoke is rising from inside the empty coffeepot. She turns her face toward his sunken face between his feet, his head about to touch the ground.
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