CH. 2

2.

      Triad of years went, chasing demons inside my head, before I could see her again.

“This time I won’t let her go.” – I told myself – “Perhaps despair will be swept by understanding, once I feel her.”

I wanted to stay around; I was all for her to burn. But I needed to let go first; all my life I had a secret:

The suspicion of another world, that exists, and I’m the middle. 

There’s a city, in this other world, looks just like Vegas. You can bet to the minute of my morning glory, the length of my orgasm, or even the milliliters. Giant screens follow every move I make, computers register statistics after every second I breathe, always functioning to the up-tempo beat of the adrenalin dripping gamble of my life, the only one that really matters.

People from all over get the moss off the rock of daily living in my Vegas, because I can be anything but ordinary; there´s one bet to every one thing I do; living is enough for me to keep the joint running.

But I can’t know. I must not know.

If I did, all sportsmanship would be lost, and all bets would be off. That other tailored world had to be completely veiled from me then, eternally, not like those shit movies; so, in the end, there was no point in even considering it. It might’ve been fun when I suspected it in the past, or even wrote about it, but if I were to know for certain of its existence, that instant would mean amuse-mentalist chaos and consequentially the loss of purpose to everybody candidly cheering in parallel world. No way.

So, for the sake of my faithful gamblers, and creators, I stood down in my suspicion, and promised to forever forget their existence. My conscience to be the only reality.

All distractions had been excluded then; I was at last ready to become the kind of man that had already told me most of what I knew of this elected world, the one that is written about.

I had to exceed in those things that separated me from the inhuman, things of reason and unexplainable, omnipresent, everlasting love. Things that only the remembered ones do in life. I needed to be on the line of fire.

That´s, secondarily, how I got to California, in the pursuit of being written and bleeding publicly in the process, such a fucking child. 

Got a tattoo, and heard the roar of the Ferraris backed by the ocean that wet the bikinis. That was about it. In the place were images were real, all variables of mass proposed satisfaction attainable, and I was still going to fuck her again, and again, and again.

In a tighter figure, more elegant arguments, she presented herself to me. Scent of chronic and citric psychosis, intense presence and overtaking, such breathing colors, she had learned so much. Proclivity of an empty carcass on exhibition is what she gave me that nite, a hack to my command center. I still feel the fear when I think of it, the panic of not knowing where you were, when you were. She took control of me, or rather gave control of me to the part of me that answers to no one, not even me. I loved her so much, and still she abused me, or I abused her.

Floating after the storm of powerlessness, with sentiments sunburned and dehydrated orientation, I kept missing her salty, and circling the expostulations of the gloom we spent together in helplessness.

Time after, having already formed a relationship with her that drove me out of home to live with her back of beyond, I saw her, the way I thought she would look, even before I met her. Exhaling, curved on my hammock, conversing with a nine blue colored lagoon, she subjected the image in a green top and jean shorts, gliding black black hair to the watery breeze stalker of her sunned skin shining through the fabric pasted to her breasts. Earth tinted eyes shooting sparks all around, some of them hit my venter, when she bent one leg and kneeled the other one to reach the small waves that struck the edge and showered her dark dripping filaments being treated by her praying palms.

I wanted to come slowly from behind, and I wanted her to know, so she would’ve partially turned her head back and scanned me with her eyes in sign of surmise acceptance meaning I could’ve got closer and adhered the skin of my plexus to that of her back, whilst throbbing my bone hard dick deep inside, with my hands kneading up her tight abdomen to a grab of her big firm bits, nipples through the fingers.

But I didn’t.

Contrary to what most people that know me believe, many times I’ve been sitting, when I should’ve been dancing.

It wasn´t a moment for conquest anyway, it was for appreciation. She held, until I was a warhorse of inherent brawls, to show her true self. She had been pampering me all along, educating me firmly, but lovely; tempering me. Keeping me out, of my own harm’s way.

She had to pose that other cheeky way in Orange County; otherwise I might’ve lost a little admiration to her multi-iconic characteristics. She became what I thought was freedom in a single motorial encounter of decontrol and sub-conscientious aftereffect involutions. She is hailed by me in a conspirator way. What a synthesis of disimprisoning forecasts in the vanguard personality assailed by her coziness.

Still flying, coming down from her, reconnecting the wires. I adjusted the air supplier on top of me, cruising from a thanksgiving of californication, to a lock up of uniforms in area fifty one. I turned to my roommate Jeremy: -“I’m getting the fuck out of that place. I shall never wear a uniform again.”-

Indeed that was it. Literally ran out, camouflaged and at night, of the military institute, after a couple of days of walking dressed as I wished amongst the bunch, and breaking pretty much every rule there was to break in that place, a farewell gesture.

I headed south to the border, a future with her, and those of her kind, a whole new beginning; a new type of soldier. Many beliefs banged against each other in a sensorial blast, change is the story of our lives.

I got home right before full on war started. Back in the place with the huge sky were I learned to take a punch and lay a bird. Once again I flew out of the heard to pursuit something I thought I saw close to the horizon. Thousands of cords were cut in the denial to obviate those vessels that blast in nothingness.

Afresh, but she still had a little surprise. The only way to stay with her was through a pilgrimage of many shadows that I had long eager to take. No U-turn on that highway.

An accumulation of lies discovered turned the weight of the balance. The contract to a simple life was too reclusive. It seemed as if all postmodern social culturing tended to the shrinking of the most distinctive human characteristics, expecting us to rape reason from the blindside, leaving only answers given, ignoring procreated questions, a big fucking balloon puppy.

No U-turn indeed. I’m made of the lack of it. Could say that it was fate, if it were to be defined as aimed energy to a purpose, but the truth is that all that I feel fit to is encouraging people to reason. I’m certain that separating myself from it, the way I did, and do, may not be standard operating procedure, but there aren’t any in humans’ feelings, and an urge for emancipation from traditionally imposed cognitions is urgent on every living one. Any attempts are greatly appreciated.

I did an unrated version. When they asked me why, I advised them to ask me what for. Then I replied: -“To go as far away as possible from the lies, be a stranger to them.”- Those are the first monsters I ever saw: institutionalized hypocrisies. I’d tried all social and clinical remedies to help heal the pain of present obscurity. No branded chemical or billed diagnosis could keep the shit storm dense enough to keep me from peeking out of it, and realize, that things just aren’t, the way they say they are. And it hurts knowing, it hurts like a mother fucker, staring at the road as the kid chasing the ball gets smashed.

But she could always shield me from filth, she can.

-“Come to mamma.”- She says. –“Come lay rite here, put your hand around my neck, rest your hand on my tit. Breathe. Think into. I know it’s all wrong baby, but you can rather bitch at it, or do something about it. Take it easy for a while. Encapsulate and prioritize. Plan and enjoy. Kiss me again. Play with yourself, or play some music, play. Come on darling, cheer up. Look at the colors. There’s time to communicate now; be with someone, be with me.”-