Saturday, November 16, 2013
Friday, November 15, 2013
Second Draft of In Too Deep
Sam began the evening by hiding his laptop in the drawer of an out of the way cabinet. Once he made sure it could not be easily stumbled upon he then mounted a tremendous effort to forget it was there. After an hour of busy work he had managed to keep his mind from wandering into the dark places, it was safe to sit down for a break.
In this precious moment there was a peace that Sam sought to cherish as long as possible. A break in the calm was coming, but dwelling on pop culture trivia and old baseball scores would surely buy him some time. Then, halfway through the lyrics to Don't Stop Believin' a whisper was carried to his ears by the cruel wind of an unchecked obsession,
"Scandanavian Assplay."
The whisper tore through the moment and Sam's eyes were twin moons of shock and fear. He knew what was coming.
"Thai women feeding cake into each other's vaginas."
A demonstration in panicked pacing commenced. Sam shifted his thoughts to try and shut out the whisper. He remembered the time he stumbled upon his Grandmother while she showered, he thought of advanced mathematics being blasted out of a foghorn mounted to an open and overflowing outhouse, and clung desperately to the mental image of a pile of rice sitting on a brown table while his Uncle Jasper stared uninterested off into the distance. But the whispers would not be denied.
"Grandma and Jasper fucking in an outhouse while equations involving rice..."
Sam held back a surge of vomit.
"Lusty Dusty the Puke Goddess gurgles gallons of gak."
He reacted by doing jumping jacks. He got to ten in what could've been only a couple of seconds. His pace was frantic and his body responded with the burn that accompanies physical strain. Working through the pain his heart sank as the memory of his busty cousin's breasts bouncing through her tank top during middle school gym class. The sin, the shame, it roared back into him and he sprang toward the window so quickly that he nearly took a dive through it. He forced it open and looked down three stories at what might be his last resort. It couldn't always be like this, could it?
"Amputee orgy."
Sam flenched.
"Cock fingering."
"Robo stump grinders from planet poon."
Terror, all was terror. It would always be like this, he knew that now. The whispers were getting louder and eventually they would stop being whispers and revert back to the unending howl of pornographic suggestion. There was no more room in his life the porn. He had already destroyed his sex drive with an insatiable lust for more and more outlandish acts and varieties of people doing fucked up things to one another and now that rampant perversion is breaking loose from every mental shackle Sam could latch upon it. It always manages to break free and lure him back to it's clutches with it's siren song. He closed his eyes, wishing for it all to go away.
"Historic sex, FDR and Churchill lapping each others fluids."
And when his eyes opened they were shattered mirrors of resignation. After a deep breath and a moment of quiet he began to step onto the ledge of the window.
"Don't leave me," said the whisper.
He turned around.
"Don't leave me, I've found two lepers with detached genitals fucking each other to the soundtrack of City Slickers 2."
Tears rolled down his face. Sam stepped down and found his way to the laptop he had put away, the whispers guiding him, cooing him, the only soothing moment he's had since the sickness took hold. With the laptop in tow he drudged his way back to the window and braced himself to be released from the bonds of bondage and other forms of perversion. He whispered into the laptop, "are you ready my love?"
"Yes," said the whisper.
Sam straightened his back and took a deep breath. He stretched his arms forward, and before the whisper could reach his ears he had let the laptop go. The sound of hard plastic shattering onto concrete sent a jolt through him. Whatever happened next, it would be alright.
That's when a young couple, dressed for the Sunday service, approached the shattered laptop and looked up at Sam. "Are you alright Reverend?" Sam waved at them and assured them that he was and that he would explain in a few minutes before the service started. They went on into the building and Sam began to prepare himself to preach that morning on the sins of the flesh.
In this precious moment there was a peace that Sam sought to cherish as long as possible. A break in the calm was coming, but dwelling on pop culture trivia and old baseball scores would surely buy him some time. Then, halfway through the lyrics to Don't Stop Believin' a whisper was carried to his ears by the cruel wind of an unchecked obsession,
"Scandanavian Assplay."
The whisper tore through the moment and Sam's eyes were twin moons of shock and fear. He knew what was coming.
"Thai women feeding cake into each other's vaginas."
A demonstration in panicked pacing commenced. Sam shifted his thoughts to try and shut out the whisper. He remembered the time he stumbled upon his Grandmother while she showered, he thought of advanced mathematics being blasted out of a foghorn mounted to an open and overflowing outhouse, and clung desperately to the mental image of a pile of rice sitting on a brown table while his Uncle Jasper stared uninterested off into the distance. But the whispers would not be denied.
"Grandma and Jasper fucking in an outhouse while equations involving rice..."
Sam held back a surge of vomit.
"Lusty Dusty the Puke Goddess gurgles gallons of gak."
He reacted by doing jumping jacks. He got to ten in what could've been only a couple of seconds. His pace was frantic and his body responded with the burn that accompanies physical strain. Working through the pain his heart sank as the memory of his busty cousin's breasts bouncing through her tank top during middle school gym class. The sin, the shame, it roared back into him and he sprang toward the window so quickly that he nearly took a dive through it. He forced it open and looked down three stories at what might be his last resort. It couldn't always be like this, could it?
"Amputee orgy."
Sam flenched.
"Cock fingering."
"Robo stump grinders from planet poon."
Terror, all was terror. It would always be like this, he knew that now. The whispers were getting louder and eventually they would stop being whispers and revert back to the unending howl of pornographic suggestion. There was no more room in his life the porn. He had already destroyed his sex drive with an insatiable lust for more and more outlandish acts and varieties of people doing fucked up things to one another and now that rampant perversion is breaking loose from every mental shackle Sam could latch upon it. It always manages to break free and lure him back to it's clutches with it's siren song. He closed his eyes, wishing for it all to go away.
"Historic sex, FDR and Churchill lapping each others fluids."
And when his eyes opened they were shattered mirrors of resignation. After a deep breath and a moment of quiet he began to step onto the ledge of the window.
"Don't leave me," said the whisper.
He turned around.
"Don't leave me, I've found two lepers with detached genitals fucking each other to the soundtrack of City Slickers 2."
Tears rolled down his face. Sam stepped down and found his way to the laptop he had put away, the whispers guiding him, cooing him, the only soothing moment he's had since the sickness took hold. With the laptop in tow he drudged his way back to the window and braced himself to be released from the bonds of bondage and other forms of perversion. He whispered into the laptop, "are you ready my love?"
"Yes," said the whisper.
Sam straightened his back and took a deep breath. He stretched his arms forward, and before the whisper could reach his ears he had let the laptop go. The sound of hard plastic shattering onto concrete sent a jolt through him. Whatever happened next, it would be alright.
That's when a young couple, dressed for the Sunday service, approached the shattered laptop and looked up at Sam. "Are you alright Reverend?" Sam waved at them and assured them that he was and that he would explain in a few minutes before the service started. They went on into the building and Sam began to prepare himself to preach that morning on the sins of the flesh.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
There's No Need for Words Snake
Tonight I learned what a psychomantium is.
It's a spirit gate for a modern shaman.
A joke room for a trendy fraud's anecdote.
A Ganzfeld machine with no moving parts.
Something I've already done before I knew there was a name for it. Self imposed solitary from a frightening night when something in the darkness reflected off that mirror, so I stood there and waited for something.
for the devil to be real
for my life to change
Some years later I'm updating this journal again. Late again, like always. Knowing what it was that flickered in that room and what thoughts surged have been lost, but tonight I learned what a psychomantium is anyhow. Been there, done that, will do it again.
It's a spirit gate for a modern shaman.
A joke room for a trendy fraud's anecdote.
A Ganzfeld machine with no moving parts.
Something I've already done before I knew there was a name for it. Self imposed solitary from a frightening night when something in the darkness reflected off that mirror, so I stood there and waited for something.
for the devil to be real
for my life to change
Some years later I'm updating this journal again. Late again, like always. Knowing what it was that flickered in that room and what thoughts surged have been lost, but tonight I learned what a psychomantium is anyhow. Been there, done that, will do it again.
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