Forward
Forward
Hello reader. I want to thank you for at least starting my book. I have started it more than once, stopped, and went back to it. It’s either a labor of love or a compulsion; I can’t tell. I built a little world, and it’s nothing without readers. If you read it, than all this work was a labor of love. If you don’t, than I did it for the same reason people got Marlboro Miles or start heroin.
I appreciate this chance you are giving me to live in your head. The real estate is so fertile that everything just grows in there. I’m sure the rooms are infinite.
**“The Men Under The Sea”
They lie in quiet desperation,
where no one hears the screams in their own heads.
Where the quiet voices of self destruction whisper in cold still air.**
They hold their breath and wait.
Left on the Beach
The sky was clear blue, and it seemed to cover the entire world in a cheery sort of tropical expanse that smelled like a floral hot humid blanket that had been left on the beach much too long.
Harold tried to remember if “Left On The Beach” was one of the drinks he ordered. His butler, confused at first, was happy to help Harold work through his issues with mixed drinks in a couples resort by himself. He drank happy things at first like “Blue Motorcycles and Pink Panty Pull Downs.”
He flipped through her Facebook and stopped on the last one that was taken when they were together. They were smiling. He wondered if this was a real smile or a fake one. Was it obvious to everyone but him?
Harold could feel his body trying to tell him something, but as the waiter got tired of bringing him alcohol; the drinks seemed to get less like sweet fruit and more like liquor poured in angrily and cussed at in heavy patois. His arms and legs were so heavy. He felt that his body would sit under the clear crystal tropical sky and bake forever. He wondered if one could will themselves out of existence without all the mess.
His felt his stomach spasm around its collection of liquors, fried foods, and an antidepressant that died in vain. He felt it all sort of lurch up against his best efforts to hold it back. It was at this point that his bladder finally broke free, and he felt a sort of humiliating warm relief run around his bathing suit.
He looked at the ocean, which was smooth, like a freshly drawn bath. The resort had a giant yellow duck just off the end of the pier, and it bobbed like a toddler’s toy in the ocean.
And then he stood up.
The nausea was a enough to send him lurching for the pier. He thought if he could just get his head in the water, his thoughts might clear.
He could feel his stomach make a final effort to lunge its contents up and out of itself as he staggered toward the pier. He bent over, his mouth yawning open; and vomited in colors. He could see black spots gather around the corners of his eyes before the world sort of went black.
He could feel himself falling.
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