The Deep



There are outlines around their bodies. They shimmer and shine and reach out to me like the face of a lover from a photograph not yet taken. With my eyes darting this way and that, I embrace the decay that these hours bring and feel alive for not having given in. This transformation, it’s threatened for years, and for years it was kept subdued. But then along came a revelation and as such, the pillars of my being altered in ways I hadn’t anticipated at all. It’s a circus and a porno and a mess for sure, but in our confusion, we should always feel blessed for being the rebels we are. In my childhood, when I was walking hand in hand to the swimming pool with my girlfriend, some kid further down the line proclaimed that he didn’t believe in God. Our five-year-old selves, we were all horrified. We couldn’t understand how reckless he could be, but looking back, he was the first of us to see beyond the boundaries. His name was Simon. He probably doesn’t even remember this moment, but to me, it remains the benchmark for enlightenment. The swimming pool we would go to, it had a big red slide that snaked its way along the length of the pool. Kids would go on it again and again. I can still remember the steps that took you up into the air. That excitement of being next in line. And then you were shooting through time. For a few seconds, nothing else mattered, and then came the payoff. The plunge into the body of water at high speeds as everything and everyone around was drowned out. On the verge of going in, my eyes would widen, and a tingling sensation would grow in my belly. I achieved my first ejaculation in that pool. Plunging in at great speed, I disappeared beneath the surface and held my breath until the tingle in my belly button grew and grew until it devoured my infant bones. For a few seconds, I was floating in the womb. It was everything and more. It was creation and the infinite. And then came growing up and the halting of perception and the blah blah blah of conformity and the even worse fate of thinking you’re free when you’re anything but.

A Journal for Damned Lovers on

A Journal for Damned Lovers on

10 replies »

      • I used to feel that way, but as I get older the things I’d like to experience again are far closer in time. My memories of childhood and my teens etc are brilliant (I was very lucky), but it’s some of the things I got wrong since then, that I’d love to relive. Does that make sense? X

      • I understand what you mean by returning to the more recent memories in order to rectify certain mistakes etc. I too go back to times and places and wish to change things, but then I visit my childhood and simply lose myself. Have you seen Inception? I really enjoyed the deeper levels. Those layers so far removed from the outside world it’s almost impossible to come back x

      • No, I actually never got round to viewing it, so I shall. My memories of childhood, like yours, are comforting to me. When I lost Dad last year, I went back often, for a while, willing him to come back. Of course that was impossible, but I was powerless to be any other way. Grief is a shitty thing.

        I’m sorry for going off on a tangent. But If I can say one more thing, it’s that your writing often touches me this way, forcing me to dick all over your blog. Ffs! Haha x

      • I’m sorry to hear about your dad. It must have been a terrible place to be. Sometimes our minds are gifts, but they can quickly turn against us and we become trapped in chasing the impossible.

        I think you’ll like Inception. If you look past all the snazzy effects, the love story gone wrong at the heart of it is captivating. And of course I am so glad my words touch you. As I’ve said before, such a connection is what I live for, and for that I thank you dearly x

      • I saw trailers for the film at the pictures. I always meant to see it, but didn’t…for some reason? I didn’t realise there was a love story element to it though, so that’s good too. Thank you for saying that about my grief. It was/is a horrible place to be, but I’m lucky, my dad was a wonderful man. He would love that I write now. I didn’t always. And sorry, again! Jeezus. I just can’t help myself. 😀

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