Something to do with the sea, and the way she curls into a ball while sleeping. The taste of the ocean air, and the moisture that rests upon my flesh. With sunshine illuminating the shore, my mind drifts to all those lost moments. I can’t say what they are, for that would destroy their magic, but every time I close my eyes, the scenes come alive once more. Dancing and euphoric, melancholic and empty. Somewhere between heaven and purgatory, a place where everything that ever existed shimmers with beauty like the song ‘Dazzle’ by Siouxsie & The Banshees. Beyond all expectations and useless scenarios. Beyond the future of war and finely maintained façades, nothing makes you feel alive than looking into the eyes of the one who sets your heart alight. It’s something to do with stardust and the urge to belong. Something concerning lost souls and creation. Laying in bed with aching bones and a blocked nose, I travel the layers of my past looking for symbols and finding refuge in a secluded room far away from the insects. Linked fingers and intimacy while sheltered from the outside world by a thick duvet. It’s snowing, or at least it should be. Photographs of her smile, from a time before the great fall. Getting up and looking out the window, the neon horizon leaves me in awe. To wonder what’s waiting out there for me; to imagine how things will be. In my madness, everything exists at the same time. There’s no other way. There are no boundaries, no beginning or ends. We merge and dissolve- infinite in our pleasures. In our forms, we know nothing of exits. Open doors and green hillsides. The abandonment of summer afternoons, of being stood by the river watching as the world revolves in perfect harmony.
Slipping into visions I swore not to describe, I run a bath and soak myself for the best part of an hour. Sipping a cold beer, I listen to music not visualizing anything, but instead recalling various smells from the past. The way old rooms used to taste and the way emotions used to be so edible. I want to grow my beard. It makes me looks homeless and mentally ill, but it brings me closer to nature. Good nature, of course, not cancer. My hand hurts, maybe the first signs of arthritis, bad nature giving me a glimpse of the first steps to my inevitable demise. None of this feels real, but I know that somehow it must. Stepping out into the damp back garden, I smoke a cigarette but immediately regret it. My head soon spinning and throat becoming dry, I retreat to my room and lay down. The sound of crashing waves growing louder, there’s nothing I can do but surrender to my senses. Curling into a ball, I imagine what her eyes look like as the touch of her fingers jump to me from across swirling plains of wonder. Something to do with the sea. The way the ocean sprays my heavy head, and the way the sunken ships of yesterday call my name, begging me to help them see the light of day once more. Everything dazzles and leaves me blind. Everything is glorious.