In Between The Lines

My twin and I conquest every territorial blackness unknown to common men. We exchange sectors for rounds; we work alone.

"Street fighter!"

A man nicknames me for quick conversation; his face is leather without creases. Fascination for his seemingly docile persona twirls me in between a set of four fingers, the fifth is an armored thumb ring.

"What is that?"

"It belongs to her."

"......"

"It's a claw chiseled from a jewel."

"Purple....."

"She rides at night through your kingdom."

"I am no queen."

"Hhhmmmph."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"You will see her."

"Okay....."

"Give it to her."

Ruby's bike is crimson red with rainbow upon reflection black sickle and hammer, mine is vice versa; we switch for eternal darkness. Migraine headaches succumb dizziness and nausea, I lay down inside a parlor housed by madmen. They settle galvanized steel buckets of ice nearby, women visit with mentholated gel creations, a child suggests marijuana; I am indifferent for each of these. I reminisce a checkered stranger through mumbling curses to a man weaving wool by the fireplace; he assures me they will be gone soon and we will be wicked satisfaction. Somebody slams the back door which jitters every person into brief exclamation, my head no longer concerns me.

"What do you want?"

"Somebody's burning marks."

"Yeah so what?"

"It's your shit right?"

"Something like that."

"Better check up on it."

"Why are you so upset?"

"She took my fucking squid jump!"

"What is that?"

"Nothing; can you get it back?"

"What did you do to her?"

"Said something about her kid."

"What did you say?"

"Said she was a bitch."

"So what if she is?"

"I'm scared of her anyways."

Braid silently steps a skip for two of a kind exchanging platters of various berries hanging upside down from a branch; her face is rather convincing, we glance to acknowledge this. We will accompany her for the evening, we feel this interests our interests. I sack my berries, my twin sacks his, we leave a plate of bold colors for neighboring entities.

"Where we going?"

"Did you get all your berries?"

"Uh huh."

"What about you?"

"Yes."

Massive tubular perforations of porcelain hosting a vascular system spinal taps inside double triangular concrete columns encrusted with ice crystals; the room is shaped into a symmetrical heart, wing to wing, walls twist into a single curve forming a point intersecting several protruding loops of titanium hundred and eighty degree angular divisions.

"Did you get the blackberries?"

"I'll trade you for the blueberries."

"What about those red tear drop ones?"

"Tastes like amaretto."

"Oooohh I want to try."

"Okay; you guys ready?"

"I think she's talking."

"She does that a lot."

"Something about sitting inside of something."

"You go first."

"Rock, scissors, paper....."

"Hurry, she's looking."

"Alright you got me. I'm taking my berries though."

"Me too. She won't notice."

"I'm going to remember this thing."

"I will too."

"She looks upset."

"Yeah....."

"She stopped talking."

"That's amazing."

"Take off your fucking clothes and get your asses in there now."

"Shit! I'm going."

"Wait for me."

Braid observes us with a set of eyes staring directly into our emotions the entire duration; there is a screen attached for cranium intrusion. We try not to appear clueless as to why and how we arrived in this chamber while she methodically laughs an incredible giggling ramp elongating the curved arrow above us. Every moment she turns to switch a valve we munch our juicy orbs; every moment she checks an electrical monitor we chuckle for her seriousness.

"Wow."

"I dropped a blue one....."

"Is it that little neon ball rolling into that thing?"

"Yeah....."

"Did you see the green one?"

"Let's do it again."

"The colors are magnificent."

"There goes a red one......"

"Orange......"

"What is that thing?"

"Did you see those sparkles coming out of it?"

"It looks like glitter."

"I want to touch it."

"Do it quick while she's not looking!"

"You got to try this!"

Ruby sends a scroll with a strip of beaded wire wrapped around linen paper; the child squeaks while I unravel, his voice is changing. I assure him this transition will gift him a deep explosive discourse for any approaching person; he hugs my side, people are watching but I care not who sees our moment of warm intervention.

Amethyst, they call her Shiva Symphonic; she rides every full moon through each quarter's rival given turf to ward them away from the hospitals. They say she carries a set of sabers, one is red and the other is purple. She wears a jacket with pink outlined circle and blue kiss drop border; black leather. The motorcycle is a Japanese monster, get this - 50,000 cc - no shit, I read the energy graph through our monitors; could not get a single image of her.

Shit. What does the bike look like?

They call the moto Azrael; airbrush skulls with a lock switch for turbo thrills.

Shit.

You're on your own for this one.

Shit.

Can I have that dagger with the red stone?

Shit.

Oh yes and those shoes with the red spider shoelaces.

Shit.

Could you throw around a few spectacular words to grace me when you meet her?

Tell my wife I adore her.

She wants me to tell you not to try so hard.

She knows something.

Bye-bye Cocoa Bear.

Shit.

Fuchsia is satisfied; she releases us with our original attire, we gloom in her presence to portray misuse of our obvious skills.

"It had to be done."

"Okay....."

"Sure....."

"You will understand."

"Uh huh."

"Yeah."

"The both of you will be much regards."

"We will get you for this."

I am watching a favored rooftop belonging to an astrological study for metaphysics; charts of various physical positions, three dimensional anatomical queries lay in between crystal tablets, ailments are recorded inside a complex set of digital switches, planetary theories are denied entry, and a few analytical bodies rest their heads inside this building. Black night whirling hypnotic metal beautifies hologram bony faces shining all over my body, the materialistic mayhem manifests into a leaping human riding a beastly motorcycle.

I want you to know I really enjoyed our companionship.

Is Zen the slightest bit upset?

She's preparing an epilogue; I will inform you of the contents when I get a chance.

What is she wearing?

Red.

What are you wearing?

Do you really want to know?

Yes.

A white dress.

We really should do something special for the boy however running about does build strength.

I got it.

Okay.

You sure you want to know?

Yes.

He looks tired.

I noticed that.

I gave him some water; he should be fine.

I gave him some dried figs.

Here it is.

Where is it?

I forgot.

Send it again!

Okay.

Every person I speak with is speechless; Shiva does not leave a mark or trace of violence. One woman defends her, another laughs, children say she is a spider building a web, I ask for whom does she wish to trap, they explain I will be the last to find out.

My Teddy Bear burst his stuffings; I am left to pick up the pieces. He leaves behind several children if he could only remember their names. We will surely miss the way he eats melons with his fingers and licks the bowl clean. Our eldest admires him the most; she calls him that man who wraps around my arm. I understand how this happened; I cannot be upset with the person who did it. He should of asked his wife before making such decisions.

"I'm married! I got a bunch of kids!"

"Really....."

"Yeah."

"Interesting."

"You're Shiva Symphonic?"

"Yes."

"I thought you'd be ugly."

"Oh?"

"Do you have any kids?"

"Just one."

"What is he like?"

"He runs around all over the place wearing black."

"I like him."

"You remind me of him."

"Do you always bedazzle your enemies before disposing of them?"

"No."

"Will you miss him?"

"I always do."

"He misses you too."

"I don't know what to do without him."

"That's how I feel right now."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Oh...."

"Yes?"

"You're grounded."

"Shit."