Welcome to the final instalment of Abstract Expressions.
As I mentioned in part 1 I am currently going through a period of self imposed exile in an effort to clear my mind, analyse some behaviours and prepare better for some huge events that I have coming up. Re-reading and releasing this work has helped with that for me because it helped me remember who I am and what I had lost.
Above all this story is like every story I have ever written, it is about endings and new beginnings, it is about hope and power but mostly, it is about love.
Again if you want to reach out and talk about any of the work you read here please do, you can comment below or email me but for now please enjoy the final in the short series: Abstract Expressions.
- Dead and Left Behind
There was a part of him that was deceased, bits of him he had left behind strung out on the road as he passed. History. A shadow of himself that he had torn from its stem and discarded. He hadn’t been whole when he started this. He bent over backwards eating his own entrails, forcing them into him to fulfill the need that he had been left with.
20. Mechanics of Sexuality and Oral Fixations
Sometimes when they fucked, he imagined that he was a great machine, a turbine, as was she. Made to work together, the relentless pounding of pistons and friction never wearing on the well oiled parts.
There were blowjobs. Her knees would up around his face. His face would be in her hair, smelling the auburn scent, fillings his soul of it. His breath drinking wisps into his soul. The noises still rang in each of their ears. He scream and smile echoing through the caverns of his mind. Sometimes they loved so hard that things had to stop before starting again, they had run out.
- Sputtering Machinations
The light machine on the editors table spluttered and a long list of the mans memories spilled out onto the table, wardrobes full of his clothes, the sunlight streaming through the window into the washing liquid. Her hospitalized, something that he never was able to see, he couldn’t bring himself to see her that way. It was his greatest shame. His weakness. Demons danced in between his ears.
21.Monoliths and Late Epiphanies
They stood one day, hand in hand between two white buildings.
By the time she told him that she loved him, it was much too late.
By the time he realized he truly loved her, she was out the door.
When it was over, they were both only a phone call away, and a visit. For some reason though neither of them would reach out to the other. He needed her still; she needed him, they were too proud to ask though.
They both went back over things in their minds. Thoughts raced by, images of a face, they couldn’t hold on though.
22.Problems of Perception
He was tethered, or at least he believed himself to be. She wasn’t free either. Parts of them stuck to the belief of what was. This wasn’t an inhibition though, they continued through hardship, as everyone will.
She looked in the bathroom mirror and brushed her teeth, it came to her. A single thought and it stuck in her mind. The woods. The shadows of the trees. The water at the beach. He was there. The part of him that she truly loved, that’s where she had left it. She hoped one day she would find what she was looking for.
Sometimes she worried that she would never find heaven, that it wasn’t a real place like so many people claimed. Paradise wasn’t real, she thought to herself though that it might be in this life and she had already left it behind.
23.Reapplication of Perpetually Worn Masks
She painted her face with make up, putting on the mask that she had become used to wearing through years of practice. The same as she always did, wasn’t it great she thought. This was ritual and it couldn’t be upset. She forgot about him and where she had left his love, she stood alone, looking in the mirror, getting ready to greet the future. A light began to shine within her breast.
- Dreams of a Past Experience
Golden light streamed in through the window, the twang of a guitar. He sat with the instrument on his lap, she watched him. He played for her, not singing, serenading her with the beauty and sound that he created specially for his time with her.
- A monologue:
I guess the main thing that bothers me is the memories that we didn’t get to make, that we will never get to make. There are things that I wish I could have shared with you, experiences, places, feelings that will no longer come to pass. I guess I mourn for them.
I ride through the park and for a second it comes to me, we could have wandered through here for hours, just being in each others company.
I play a record and as the needle hits the grooves and the first sounds wash over me out of the speaker I wonder what it would have been like to share this with you.
I lay in my bed and my mind brings up ghosts of memories of watching you get dressed while I lazily stare up at you late on a Saturday morning.
For some strange, maybe morbid reason, a vision of you, your belly swollen comes to me. You carry our child, our future established and our love blossomed, flowing forth to form another generation.
All of these things and more that haunt me will never happen, a part of me that was, that could have been dies. Racking my body and psyche with waves of despair and of pain. A pain that started in the guts, somewhat like a deep hunger that twisted the organs forcing me into a fetal position, prostrate on my floor in the dark.
It’s not real, not one bit. Memories of things that never came to pass. Ghosts of a future that died before it could be realized. None of it real, yet still, there I was doubled over, sweating, bile rising, cursing my misfortunes. Blaming myself, blaming others, even sometimes blaming you.
- An End or Something Extra
The boy sat on the floor, a cloud of smoke surrounding him emotionally and physically, his dreams flowed out of his head and into the reality of the room. A thin line carved into his skull. The blood began to seep, oozy and red, as the skin breached. Thoughts that raced by as the pain overtook his conscious were fuzzy golden and warm. Pushing through, he cleared his thoughts and resolved to finish it. Furrowing his brows as he pushed thought about the bones in his skull, creating a canyon where, at the bottom lay his dream. The senses started to dull and no blade fell to the ground, his finger twitching as his body fell to the floor a dream that was reality.
His dreams, fallen from the jail that was his mind began to take shape and conjugate on the hardboard of the floor. They imagined a world where everything was as they wanted. Slowly they, the dreams, looked upon their charge, his lifeblood leaving him, seeing he needed them to survive they knitted the would in his head, sealing the break with essence of dreams. He slowly raised himself to his feet no longer the man he was but something powered by his own dreams.
A man followed his dreams in the direction they take him, a light beginning to shine within his breast and a pair of ankles floats through his mind…
Thanks again for reading. This was the final part of Abstract Expressions, the piece of prose I wrote back in 2014-ish when I was going through some introspection time following a breakup.
If you missed part 1 and 2 you can find them here:
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