Slurry.

Let me tell you what it was like. Lying on a rack of a bed, the sweat from all of a sudden and a half minutes of sex still clinging to my naked body, I am no longer relieved. Instead, I am shaking (but it’s not cold). The blankets have fallen away and I don’t dare get up to retrieve them. I know that if I do I will not return to the bed. And it is all gone anyway, finished off an hour ago amidst impetuous greed and loud music. The others, the music, all of it was irrelevant to relentless want. The pattern repeated, ten minutes of synthetically induced exaltation followed by the entirety of my consciousness engulfed by its insufferable demands. Fake rapture.

And in that bed, everything I had poured down my throat to even me out is trying to make its way back up. Another reason to stay put, but I can’t sleep with my head twitching and an arm around my neck. So, I will pace. I sort of know the neighborhood, and because I do it will occur to me much later how fucking stupid I was. Not just because some desperate fuck could have put a gun to my head, or because it was way too much, or because I am not entirely familiar with the body in the bed, but because I will have to live with it.

Nevertheless, I am not thinking of that when I pull on my clothes and walk out the door. Swallowing hard and still grinding my teeth, my jaw is tired and my lips are chapped. My feet step ahead of me slightly, but I am keeping up. In order to slow my quick heart my breathing becomes forced, gasps long and slow. Think. Breathe. Walk. Walk. Walk. Think. Breathe. If I just keep walking it will go away, all of it…even the body in the bed.





p.s. yep that was the last and forgive me the past and present tension.