Spain

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
One chapter of a new novel

Submitted: August 17, 2015

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Submitted: August 17, 2015

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Prologue

 

And then there was light..and with it came the sharp clarity brought on by an anxiety attack , the type that can only be a result of an evening of self medication and the lonely endeavor of finding some to fuck and kiss and hold and share for a moment. The loneliness sits well below the surface all that’s exposed is only what want to see smiling drinking dancing, a mixture of alcohol nicotine and cocaine is all that’s required to achieve this though finding someone to share the intimacy calls for some luck too. 

Which happened to be what I had today, morning sex is a joy with someone new who you may never see again. The barriers are broken down and all that's left is the intimacy that can only be conveyed through smudged mascara and a mouth that had been around your cock the night previous, I leaned in and kissed that mouth and enjoyed the moment. Sometimes I feel like I only live for these moments everything and everyone else is either an obstruction distraction or vessel in relation to me finding the calm that comes the most simple yet immeasurably complicated transactions that can occur between two people- chemical endorphins the exchange of a kiss and the eye contact the touch of skin on skin. She kissed me back and smiled..she was pretty even in the state that last night activities had left us in. All women's eyes are pretty and mens too if I was partial im sure, they all show an amount of vulnerability at times which gives the feeling of viewing something for the very first time and completely fascinates for its unpredictability, which can help when fucking an ugly or overweight girl. All eyes are sexy. 

And she was lovely..dark brown eyes, cheeky though I didn’t feel comfortable with to much cheeky it touched on my insecurities that other men would enjoy the same playfulness, though that would never develop as I was on a plane in a few hours leaving the soft Spanish warmth for grey london. This particular venture had begun one week prior in the south of the british isle in a backwater haven called portsmouth where dreams are limited and mens aspirations are cut short by the genial mock playfulness that men grow to accept as bonding -which is a complete lie when closely observed as we still play by the competitve natural insincts that always we have and its only the elegance in which this friendly poison is delivered that has evolved. Isolation can intensify this and portsmouth was isolated in the way that gave you enough to enjoy but not mature, like a stunted malformed premature creatures thriving on social media football cocaine mediocre beer offset with the promise of the dream apparent which consists of a wife reciting contrived platitudes and pets and children around to keep you busy enough so that you're never faced with the question  

'what the actual fuck are you doing with your life'  

and im no better stunted in my own way... the only difference is that is my anxious disposition helps that question to reverberate down to my crooked spine and the twisted pit of my stomach. 

 

Portsmouth is the sunniest part of England. 

 

 

 

 


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