Skip to main content

Dying Star

I held you close and I held you tight. I felt your trembling body rock mine roughly as you wept your beautiful heart out recanting the ills of your past. A failed boyfriend, an attempted rape, the shame you felt. I assured you you were okay, that you werent broken or misaligned, your soul not tarnished or tattered. You were so gorgeous, and you knew it, adding arrogance to your potent charisma. But your unneeded, unfounded, baseless shame caused you to act loudly and judge broadly. You insulated yourself from fear, doubt and loneliness by sheer force of will. My captivating girl.

My grin broadened involuntarily as I beheld the magnificent flower opening and unfolding before me. Your girlish giggling, high-pitched and carefree, drove my heart to soliloquy, echoing my own innocence and naivete. Before seduction, before pickup, before the Ars Amorata. When I simply was and could be, and my fingers gracing those of a amazing girl provided all the profundity I needed to prove that God does exist. You poured your desire for more, your ambivalence towards the future, and your eclectic passions into my chalice of enrapturement. I drank deeply, fitfully, and willingly. Two bodies became one, dancing to the pulsating rhythm of syncopated heartbeats, and although my place will always be to stand guard, Id never felt safer than when your hair filled my nostrils, your head weighing heavily and lovingly on my chest.

Distance destroys, perforating the strongest, sturdiest sails and suffocating all that wishes to blossom and breathe. I watched you disappear, my light fading and leaving me to be smothered by an uncertain fog. Our courtship was a whirlwind, chaotic and incredible in its terror and ferocity. If we meet someday anong the remains, who knows, we could try again. Or we may nod and smile knowingly, thanking each other for the gift of compassion and understanding. The seashells we collected still make random appearances, neglecting to disappear completely. I can still hear the call of the ocean, the rolling of waves, and the beating heart of adventure when I press it to my ear. Now youre a dying star in the distance, guiding me to help me avoid tenuous seas and embrace the brief lulls in the chaotic oceans of life. But your absence caused the other stars hiding in the dark around you to reveal themselves. Theyre beckoning, and what kind of Sailor would I be if I didn't heed their call?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

My Return To The Field

How often must I remain here? I must have died unexpectedly, and my wandering spirit, aura thick with malevolence and anguish, refuses to acknowledge my own death. Indeed, I have become a ghost, cursed to haunt diners, coffeeshops, bars and beaches, pen brandished and book unsheathed. I've grown so distant from others that Im more statue than Man, yet where this separation once stung painfully, it now soothes reassuringly. Lumped in with a generation of "men" with testosterone levels lower than a woman's would be 30 years ago, and forced to make due with "women" that proudly proclaim themselves sluts and will actually attempt to fistfight men if they are ignored and eschewed, as they should be, my sentiment is clear. I want no part of this generation. It's filthy and degraded.

You could say I'm living a daydream right now, a fantasy granted the breath of life by divine providence. How many shifts at work have I frittered away contemplating the perf…

The Terrace

I never imagined that I'd be writing this here in Hawaii of all places. I was the kid who wasted his potential, the wunderkind that sullied his genius through the pursuit of prestige and neglect, the prodigy that nearly failed out of high school pitifully. Now, a little over 3 weeks from my 26th birthday, Ive stepped back to reflect, as anyone of above average meaning and consciousness is apt to do. At 17, I would fantasize about traveling the country playing cards, busking, guitar firmly in hand, and writing, producing a sustainable living with my words. Less than a decade later, Ive made $1000 in less than a week off of an investment of $100 in the poker rooms of San Diego, had my poetry published in a variety of online magazines, and have recorded music with independent artists in 3 different states. Ive traveled the world and been inducted into the famed Order of Magellan. In short, Ive done everything my detractors deemed outside of my reach. If this seems self-aggrandizing, …

My Path In Physical Culture: Part 1

Unlike a growing contingent of “athletes” obsessed with efficiency at the expense of results and productivity, I love to train. In fact, I fucking LIVE to train. The understated ease yet enjoyable difficulty and toil that comes with increasing your work capacity, refining a previously intimidating technique, perfecting the firing of your neuromuscular proficiencies, and simply pumping your limbs full of blood until they are close to bursting all amalgamate to form a potent cocktail that will forever remain unmatched and unsurpassed by any narcotic or liquor. In my opinion, it even beats the height of orgasm at times. Arnold said it first, so by default it can’t be wrong.



                                                             The King has spoken.

It is both the bane and the blessing of every bodybuilder’s existence. It can leave you unfathomably sore and crippled with DOMS after the ecstasy of the experience has subsided, yet, in the moment, you can feel as if you have the body…