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By darwin Date: 2007 Jan 30 Comment on this Work [[2007.01.30.13.42.8024]] |
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My friend’s mom took me for my first pregnancy test: fears and thoughts rotating through my impressionable mind. My youth exhibited itself in my ignorance about pregnancy. But that was the culture I lived in then, some pseudo-religious sect about the sanctity of the hymen and how to keep it intact. Pissing on a strip, showing my sins to the chemicals gods below in the swirling water. Since I was a child I had been told that it was wrong, sleeping with someone before you were married. Though to call it sleeping with someone, always sounded innocuous. The act of sleeping next to each other, just a simple platitude and seemingly innocent in its being. It doesn’t tell you about the humility needed, and seeing a body that is anything but beautiful. Hair, scars, and the smells that emanate. The humanity that created itself through years of neglect or aspirations gone awry. Then comes the moment that you reveal yourself in all your unmagnificient glory. It wasn’t that he was any great fuck. He was my first, and they are never amazing. Just another experience through this life of trying to make it to the next one: whatever, the next is, a body, a bed, a warm meal. I felt that separation from my body, where his flesh had pounded into me, breaking me in ways I didn’t know I could be broken. The hot tears spilling down my cheeks, the shame I felt. The sometimes God flashing through my mind: praying for my repentance. I couldn’t repent a sin I didn’t understand. That dirty word: Fornication. It wasn’t about the sex, or the act of trying to induce pleasure. How rarely is it ever that anymore. It’s a race to see who can win, win their soul back from whatever depths it has been lost. Lost whether to yourself and the gods of the media fighting for the image of beauty. Fighting and raging against the world of rules and the greater God that might be there. It’s a war that is being waged. Somewhere along the way we became broken. Broken fragments of life that are trying to mend themselves back together. Through the semen and the breathless passion of sex. Trying to find a higher power through the moans and grunts between thighs. Hoping with that kernel of honesty that lives in us, that maybe he will find out between our bouts of depravity. Him, so often a him. The one who fucks. We had to wait the few minutes for the strip to tell me the deciding factor for the rest of my life. After all the tears that had been shed, finally, a moment written only in truth… |