I have to say this . . .
I love the feel of the wind in my hair. I love the bright yellow sun and the clear blue sky.
I do.
I love the breeze moving across my face.
I swear.
This is enough to make a man look upwards and thank the sky for such things.
It is enough to make a man like me, look at the sky and associate the vision of sunlight and the feel from a breeze with an excess of freedom.
Beautiful is only one word and yet there are infinite things in this world that fall underneath this umbrella. And to be clear and perfectly transparent; there is beauty and beautiful things and then there is you, the optimal or the perfect and then there is the paramount or the above and beyond all else, which is you
(I swear)
Beauty, Beautiful, and all of these associated things are enough to make me grateful.
These things are enough to let me know or to feel or to say that yes, I have seen these things.And I have. I swear I have.
I am blessed and fortunate and grateful for this.
I have seen beautiful things in both horrible and ugly places. But who hasn’t?
I have encountered the most beautiful people while I endured the worst and the ugliest of times. And yes, of course I have seen beautiful people.
They are everywhere.
I have seen beautiful people in otherwise unnoticed bodies. I have seen beauty in different sizes or shapes or types and from my own heart; I know I have seen, kissed, touched, and I have enjoyed looking at the most beautiful face in the world.
I can say that in my heart and through my eyes, I have seen, kissed, touched, and enjoyed the most beautiful face that has ever been created in this universe.
Then again, the world is a relative place and so, in my relation to the world or the universe and in relation to my version of beautiful, I can say that my beliefs cannot be contested, and no one can tell me differently.
I know I am right.
I am absolutely right.
No one is more beautiful “than her!”
And “her” is YOU!
My version of beauty has marks and dots or spots on her skin
My version of beauty is unique to me. Therefore, with regards to my love or the most beautiful girl in the world; she is without question a substance that comes with the highest highs.
Without any argument, she is one who is above any kind of euphoria or narcotic bliss.
And ah, yes. Yes, absolutely.
Yes, Of course.
Of course, of course.
She is this
And she is you
I know.
I agree that I have experienced highs before. I have broken the membrane of our so-called atmosphere and blasted into outerspace. And I have done this in more ways than one.
I have soared the numbness of weightless abandonment.
And yes, I have felt my body lose gravity. I was removed from the Earth’s gravitational pull so that my mind could be elsewhere and therefore, I could escape.
However, every high has its fall or crash.
And so, I have to say this . . .
I love the feel of the wind in my hair. I love the bright yellow sun and the clear blue sky.
I love the breeze moving across my face.
This is enough to make a man look upwards and thank God. This is enough for me to believe and have faith.
You do this.
This is enough for me to thank the sky for such things.
It is enough to make a man like me, look up and associate the breeze with the excess of freedom.
Beautiful is only one word.
Yet there are infinite things in this world that fall underneath this umbrella.
Beauty, Beautiful, and all of their associates are enough to make me grateful to know or to feel or to say that yes, I have seen these things.
And I have.
I swear I have.
I have seen beautiful things in both horrible and ugly places. I have encountered the most beautiful people while I endured the worst or the ugliest of times.
And yes, of course I have seen beautiful people.
I have seen beautiful people in otherwise unnoticed bodies or shapes or types and from my own heart; I know I have seen, kissed, touched, and enjoyed looking at the most beautiful face in the world.
No one can take this fact away from me.
I can say that in my heart and through my eyes, I have seen, kissed, touched, and enjoyed the most beautiful face that has ever been created in this universe.
Then again, the world is a relative place and so, in my relation to the world or the universe and in relation to my version of beauty, I can say that my beliefs cannot be contested.
No.
No one can disprove this and no one can tell me different.
My version of beauty has marks and dots or spots on her skin
My version of beauty is unique, and she is without any question, the most beautiful girl in the world.
She is a substance to me that comes with the longest high.
She is above any euphoria or narcotic bliss.
And ah, yes. I agree that I have experienced the worst of all withdrawals. I have had them hurt me, or left me sick, or made me beg and plead because I couldn’t take it. And somehow, I would take the dope-sick despair and the junk sickness over the withdrawal that happens with the absence of you
I remember a summer in a field of tall grass. I remember the tan, wheatlike thistles and the feeling of how the wind could translate to the way my body slowed to a magnificent crawl.
The heat was unthinkable and the sound of summer was pronounced with an exclamation of cicadas chattering in the distance. Everything was quiet and summery.
Meanwhile, my body bent forward like the windswept field of the tan-colored grass.
I was high, and high as ever.
I was up to the moon in daylight, and the heartbeat of the world quaked through me like a vibration or a sensational rhythm that soothed my like an infant with a pacifyer
.
I can say this was before the beast turned sick. I can say this was before the demons spread their wings. Yes. I can say that.
I can say this is before the opiate became my prison and I became my own prisoner
Mike was nearby. He was high too. I could see him, lifelessly zombie-like with eyes that lost emotion. His eyes were open an fixated; however Mike looked as if someone hit a switch and turned off the power to his brain.
These were the earlier days of my heroin journeys. I admit this beauty is different, but there is a point. This was the greatest, most unreal and unbelievable weightlessness that I could ever imagine. Nothing was like this.
Nothing felt this good.
Until . . .
I have to say that yes, love is a high like no other.
You . . .
I can say that I have tried different substances to achieve that perfect balance and be painless or free. I have done this and more.
I have tried to drown my sorrows in whiskey bottles or with ounces of drugs and no. In the end, the high vanished and the troubles or reality still existed.
Nothing ever “took me away.”
Nothing until I felt the presence of this
you. . .
I remember the cool rush of the cocaine blitz. I remember the ear-ringing and the feeling of perfect forgiveness when my body escaped. All was unhooked and I was disconnected.
Something moved the triggers of pain and at last, I felt numb or distant.
Or better yet, I felt the thrill of what it meant to be elsewhere and untouchable.
But again, there is no redemption nor salvation with this kind of escape. Synthetic heavens are only synthetic at best.
There is no redemption with this escape and this be advised; this kind of Heaven comes with altering demons who change and die, —or worse, this brand of Heaven causes the reversal of Angels with wings to die and fall backwards. Could you imagien that?
Angels falling backwards to die upside down like the evil rhetoric of an inverted cross.
Still, nothing comes close to the bliss or the heaven or the highs that I felt when I saw my love’s face for the first time. Nothing matches the adrenaline that overwhelms me when she kisses my lips or touches my arm—as if to do so, “just because.”
No high was this high or out of this atmosphere; and no high was as explosive and sexual.
Nothing was this amazing or as orgasmic as the high I felt the first time her legs wrap around me.
I remember how this felt and how I sucked on her big toe while her legs spread around my wasit.
I kissed her feet as we made love, —just because, just to do it, and so she knows and so she understands that I worship her. I worship every part of her because to me; she is more desirable and more euphoric than any drug that’s been designed by mankind.
And likewise, I sit here and desire her.
And likewise, I sit alone at the moment.
I regard her voice and I regard her body and I regard the way she makes me feel, —and likewise, same as the dope sick withdrawal hurt me or made me sick; this withdrawal is far worse.
This is worse than the time I was sick and in the Bronx. I was under the street and hiding from a gunman who killed two people on 134th Street by Willis Avenue.
Yes. I admit my old street kid bullshit is bullshit.
And yes, I admit that my past trauma and my horrors damaged me. This hurt me and infected my thinking with thinking errors and cognitive distortions. I admit these are the things that disallowed me from seeing the greater or the much bigger picture.
I love the feeling of wind in my hair and the breeze across my face.
I love the light of the sun—and yes, although different, there is a song in Spanish which reminds me of this idea:
The song goes:
Yo tenía una luz que a mí me alumbraba,
Translation: I had a light and it was very bright
y venía la brisa y fuá . . .
Translation: A breeze came and “fuá . .”
y me la apagaba
Translation: and it turned off or . . . she went away
This is what the withdrawal of you feels like to me
I had a light and it was very bright (and beautiful)
when all of a sudden, a breeze came and “Fua!!” (or fwah, because this is just a sound effect)
it went away and all if this shit off
And so, you . . .
You are my light
You are my peace
You are my love
and by all means—
you are the most beautiful and euphoric thing I have ever experienced in my life
Believe me
Maybe another breeze will come and “y FUA!!
You will be back with me
forever~
