I write about love and loss; about melancholia and things that exist on the outside, for those interest me the most. Her breasts, though, I told myself I wouldn’t, but, in the end, I’m just a man. Just an animal that can’t rise above its primal urges. She appeared before me from out of nowhere, and in an instant my eyes were on them. I tried to look the other way; tried to think of the greats such as Sartre, Kafka, and what it meant to be an existentialist, but I was too weak. Something in my mind made sure that my higher brain was taken out of action. All that mattered at that moment were her charms. She was a looker, early twenties. Brunette. Her gaze spoke to me of all things superficial, and she had no shame whatsoever in being only skin deep. And that tanned, smooth skin. Those milky breasts as they bounced mid-breath. In that split second, my search for the meaning of life was over. My career as a writer gone. All that mattered was having her in my bedroom, lifting up that top, and then unlatching her bra. I wanted to be blinded. Wanted with everything I had to take hold of them with hardened fascination. Doing unspeakable things to her, I would watch in awe as they bounced around. Up and down. Sideways. Dripping with sweat and squeezed like oranges, I would drink from them like a babe in arms while she beat me off. She would have to. There could be no other way. Such an object of deadened desire; such an empty act devoid of love and poetry, but I couldn’t help it. I’m not a saint; I’m a naughty boy. We all come undone by our designs. No matter how much we learn or are conditioned by the modern world, beneath it, we are beasts hungry and ravenous to be free of restraints. The rage in me, the shame of being no better than any other. The boredom of acts performed out of the dim obedience to impulses. Wherever you are, take me away from such horrors. Challenge me to a new way of being, one that keeps me from sinking to the depths that others chase day after day. Be my storm. Be my constant. Mountains and oceans. Let me worship the beauty of your vision, and make me stand still in the heat of your gaze.