eternal ennui

Featured Image Credit:
Dissolve and Integrate“ by Ty Dale is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0

to me, it’s always been a quandary of yes or no. but charlotte, she saw things in a different light. the light of distant planets from far off solar systems with suns that shine brighter than our own. for her, it wasn’t as black and white as yes or no. instead, it was an entire spectrum, wavelengths that translate from colors to sounds and back again creating an ephemeral fabrication of folly and fancy. it’s the things between things, the moments that pass between moments as they’re passing by. it’s all over in the blink of an eye. but at the same time, it lasts millennia. it travels as fast as light across the universe then circles around to the back of your head and you only feel a light burning reminiscent to a light from a magnifying glass, focusing the suns rays into one decimal point in order to burn leaves, plants, memories on the back of your mind. that’s all she sees and all she believes. but to me, the answer will always be her, and now.

we knocked over a ceramic vase as we stumbled into our apartment. the lights were off and we hadn’t grown accustomed to the layout, which made it difficult for us to walk through, in the dark, backward, drunk but still, we tried and we eventually found our way into the bedroom. in the darkness, we jumped on the bed and began to undress. there’s something so natural about this, it’s like our bodies are on autopilot and we’re engaging in the ancient act that leads to where we are today, without people doing this for generations and generations, there wouldn’t be generations and generations to reminisce upon. so much anticipation and build up leading to a certain ecstasy that can only be described as that which is the result of sex. but, of course, once the act is done there are doubts that flood the room like sweat and perspiration keeping the body cool after so much action. the man finished but did the woman feel enough pleasure? the answer is too often the same. how pathetic, i think as she rests her head on my chest. she sounded as if she felt pleasure and joy but was that true?

her bedroom’s walls were full of cut out pages from magazines and large posters of bands, musicians, and stills from films I’ve never seen or heard of.

she invited me into her apartment

i was nervous so i stepped into her bathroom to collect myself

i noticed everything in her bathroom was pink. even the towels and shower curtain were pink. but it wasn’t overwhelming. it was more subtle. subtle accents. this calmed me…