“Are you ready for us?” she eagerly asks from behind the door.

Although I’m not doing anything other than looking up at the ceiling, I’m not ready at all. I wish to remain by myself a while longer. Perhaps the words I’m searching for will appear. Rising through the cracks in the floorboards, they’ll tickle my toes and caress my bones, so sorry for having evaded my grasp. It’s highly doubtful, by one can always dream. If one doesn’t, one is truly fucked, isn’t one?

“We’re almost finished,” she says, “just drying off the dog and then we’ll be with you.”

The dog barks again, and Meeko laughs.

“Okay,” I say, barely audible over the din coming from outside.

Summoning as much energy as I can muster, I drag myself off the floor and hobble over to the desk. It’s like I’m an old man before my time. Grabbing the bottle of beer, I down what’s left and sink into the chair exhausted by doing nothing. I’m always exhausted by doing nothing, it’s why I never do anything. At times like these, I know that if I’m not careful, I’ll lose myself inside my head without even realising. It’s so easy. So tempting. The only thing that saves me is Meeko. Whenever she goes to visit her mother or stay with friends, all hope is lost. I turn into a vegetable. My mind allows me to travel far and wide. It opens doors that others can only dream of, but if I peer in for too long, I get sucked into the maelstrom. It’s a tricky bitch, alright. There’s a black hole inside my head, and I’m continually skirting the event horizon to achieve my needs. If I get the balance just right, imagery dances with words and stories come as easy as that. If I stray too close, I have to wait for Meeko to come rescue me. I like that word, maelstrom. It’s one of my favourites. Void is another, and abyss. Anything to do with something vast and immeasurable, and I’m all over it. Or in it, as it were. Sighing at the absurdity of it all, I close my laptop. Reaching for my balls, I hold them tightly and focus on the bathroom door. From behind it, I can hear the whisperings of her womb, and what it has to say is what I long to hear.

A Journal for Damned Lovers UK

A Journal for Damned Lovers US

Anthology UK / Anthology US