SEX WITH CRYSTINA
unfinal draft 1
contains mistakes and typos
but the art pores through...
I am slipping my friend. Please help me…
heavy subject matter.
this is the story of a man's struggle with addiction... possible drug triggers inside
it is a happy ending, though
somewhat. i guess.
you see it cant be a "happily ever after" kind of happy ending becaue we never really get over our addictions. we only learn to deal with them.... and in that case, sometimes it's only a matter of time...
My dear Crystina, I still think about the day we first met; in the summer heat, under the cotton clouds, among the sounds of distant, echoless laughter, the squeals of little children playing with their puppies, and the plangent clangour of trains, - and the sharp sound silence -; you, me, and James; we walked together; we walked for an eternity. We talked, we talked forever; we talked for an eternity.
We lay down on the moist, green grass, - eternally - in the summer heat, under cotton clouds, among the descant of birds and the crickets and the meditative cicadas.
With you by my side, I felt strange, otherworldly feelings in my heart: I transcended dimensions, I travelled at the speed of light – and faster –, I burned like a graceful flame of an ancient bonfire, I dribbled, and splashed, and gurgled – as green water -, and even the strongest rocks that tried to stand in my way were cut in half. In that moment when our eyes met – wide open -, I felt my four-chambered heart rip open and bloom like a flower in the spring: into four, fleshy, pulsating petals that swayed to the faint rhythm of my shallow breath, waiting, waiting, waiting – yearning – for you to come buzzing along and make your way into me, to burrow into the deep, dark depths of my big, blue heart once again.
Yes, I did fall in love with you the very first time we met. Yes, it really was love at first sight! You made me feel like I was a space traveller escaping the atmosphere of earth – of mars – of Trappist-1D! I felt like a jet pilot soaring through the infinite crimson skies. I felt the G-force tugging at my chest, throbbing in my head, lurching in my stomach: 1G. 4G. 9G. 39G – G-LOC. That is what you did to me. You made me feel complete. You made me happy.
I still feel it today, that familiar G-force; I feel it every time my thoughts wander back to you, which they always, always do, my dear Crystina, because every morning, afternoon, and night – all day - I’m thinking of you. Whenever I have a spare moment, I’m thinking of you: waiting in line at the coffee shop, while calls connect, and even while the onions sauté, my mind is somewhere far, far away. And I’m still thinking of you… because my days with you were my best days. And I miss you. And I love you still, my dear Crystina.
read aloud. read slowly. or you will miss out.
For several years, I found myself sleepless at 04:00 am on a Sunday Morning.
For several years, I found myself restless at 04:00 am on a Sunday Morning.
For several years, I found myself helpless at 04:00 am on a Sunday Morning; speechless on Monday, mirthless on Tuesday, hapless on Wednesday, cheerless on Thursday, lifeless on Friday, and hopeless on every day that I remained estranged from her, while the years, they staggered, hobbled, floundered, stumbled and squirmed by, just like my heart: like a wounded animal deeply yearning for home, knowing painfully well the fact, somewhere deep within the fine tendrils of its non-lyrical comprehension, that there is no longer a home left to return to.
Every day was bad but Sundays, for I had little to do, were worse; and memories of the sweet smell of her sweat beckoned my pining soul to return to her warm, motherly embrace, which siphoned from me the pain of existence and replaced it with something ethereal and sublime: a flood candy-pink-with-streaks-of-red kind of self-love, the steel-gray confidence of a loaded gun, and the joy like that of a cool breeze on a hot summer day. I had never felt this way before, and I never felt this way since.
It was thus that I found myself, at every second of everyday, or rather, at every ever-undulating unit of time, time not linear but as turbulent as the surface of a lake in the eerie, silver night, during which the human brain forms, through the interplay of the senses and memory, the phenomenon known as self-awareness, which exists in the form of a constant whisper, completely and utterly hopeless, for still, I remained estranged from her.
My dear Crystina, do you remember how we would sit in the bathtub for hours and hours, talking about everything and nothing until the water ran cold? And I would be telling you — aloud — about all sorts of things, about how, together, we would take over the world, change my life, turn it right around, about how I was going to be somebody, someday, somewhere, while you listened quietly, a shimmering, coy smile never leaving your face, your arms around me, holding me tightly, holding me tightly in your arms like your baby, holding me tightly in your love, holding me close like I was never held before – not even as a child -.
Living without you, my love, is like living in the dark, and even the sunny, summer days are no different from endless night, and I feel like a soldier back from the war, with nothing left to live for, and life is like a perpetual epilogue of a fantastic thriller novel, where, after finding himself sucked into a global conspiracy and saving the world, the protagonist finds, awaiting his arrival in his old Cimmerian home, among wearisome friends, and a monotonous, monochromatic life, a veiled widow: a black depression, and so, an unrestrainable blue numbness spreads across my heart, consuming it slowly, consuming me inevitably, endlessly, finally.
Without you, sweet love of my life, every day is spent in elegy, and time is viscous, stygian liquid that will not flow, and my world is steeped to the core in bitter, aromatic desire, and abstruse lament, and grief flows in in tumultuous, ebullient streams within my veins, and my weary heart goes on pumping, pumping, pumping it to ever corner of my body, to the very last cell – nothing left untouched - , keeping me alive, keeping me hurting... until I find you, or that final moment when I will draw my last breath, whichever shall come first. Perhaps they will come in close succession.
I need you back, my baby, I need to witness your seraphic beauty again, I need to see the world through your beautiful, crystal-clear eyes again, I need to feel your arms wrapped tightly around me again – too tight to breathe - , and I need to feel your breath on mine again, I need to hold you in my arms, I need to feel the sweet taste of you on my tongue again. I want us to be united as one, once again, for the last time, because I need you; I cannot live without you. I have tired of this desolate life. I need you, my love, I really do.