Pinky doors of flesh, flowering in fields of corn. Drinking my beer with the last slithers of light leaving the night sky, I feel myself drifting to sleep. Music calling me away, the scent of burning candles mask the scent of cigarette smoke. It’s humid, balmy. Clouds cover stars, spiders scuttle in the corners of the room. The window’s open. Should be shut, but I’m too tired to get up and shut it. Masturbation visited me earlier. Nothing amazing, just a little temptation. A little lust. Dirty girls on heat giving me all that I want. Sucking, chewing, taking it with joy. The terrible cheapness of pornography. So glorious and deadening. Afterwards, my bones dissolved in a hot bath. Laying there for the best part of an hour, I did nothing but breathe until the water became cold. Adrift, peaceful. The day passing slowly, everything in its place.
Trees and fields of corn. Doorways made of light, and a sun that never dies. At least not just yet. Memories of kissing, of tasting love. Books begging to be read, words that should be said. No work tomorrow. Getting up at eleven and having a cup of tea will bring my hangover immediate relief. Sat in the garden, the ghosts of my dreams will dance just out of reach. Energy drinks and toast. A shit that stinks will bring pleasure beyond all realms of possibility. Another walk around the quarry, through English fields so pure and mysterious. A secret passageway to a clearing where I’ll sit alone. For miles around, they’ll only be animals. Foxes, mice, and birds. Badgers, squirrels, and deer. No humans, they annoy me too much. Too many problems, hassle. A fine lover to make me happy is good, but the rest can disappear. Like smoke and mirrors. Picturing her dress and curves, I’m swallowed by darkness as her body curls around mine in the shimmering layers of my mind. Self obsession and oblivion. Lullabies for a girl who yearns for the touch of a plague lover unknown. Exploding. Sucumbing. She smiles like a child, not afraid of being honest.
Stay beautiful, yeh.