Saturday

ballard

The evening rolls in. Warm, fresh. Fading blue skies. Work was busy, unfulfilling. The heat brings out women. Short skirts, cleavage on show. So many beautiful women. Sometimes, one will give me a smile. Occasionally, flirting occurs. I imagine what it would be like to fuck them. I see us both naked, going at it for hours, sweat pouring from our pulsating bodies. Redheads, blondes, brunettes. Skinny, plump. Young, older. It’s not the physicality that does it for me, but more the intimacy. The truth between two souls. Those fragments of moments, when something unknown is touched upon. Of course, there’s no love. It’s just fantasy, but it keeps me going until it’s time to clock out at least. The streets are full of deadened children. Pikeys, lower class insects. They scuttle around, always getting under your feet. I’m sure it wasn’t like this when I was a kid. Maybe the world is becoming a darker place, or perhaps I’m just out of touch. Either way, the flesh on display puts a spring in my step after a long day at work. Through alleyways and shortcuts through fields, the boiling sun glares at me as I smoke a few cigarettes before getting back. Once in, a bath is run, and food eaten. Then, I soak myself until all the grime slides off my skin. Clean and at ease, the sun has dimmed. Watching me through the window, it desperately wants to kill, but I’m safe once more. These days, I have more time on my hands. Out of a relationship, I’m afforded long stretches of solitude that are filled with writing. This brings me pleasure, but still, the absence of another is something that saddens me. There’s someone I wish would be mine again. Who I feel nothing but love for. With her, everything felt in its rights place. The days were golden, and we were passionate together. Someone like no other. But, who knows what the passage of time will bring. For now, it brings another lazy Saturday evening spent writing and drinking beer. It’ll be a night of discovery. All those danger zones of the mind, just waiting to be explored. All those secrets and symbols, just out of reach and begging to be found. Somewhere out there, is a future yet to be written. It dances with the past; obscene and lustful. Singing songs of love, it connects with what’s inside of me, and for a while, I understand. Everything makes sense when the words come.

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